


Big Brothers of Slytherin

by boredomsMuse



Series: Evil is Not a Trait [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Found Family, Good Blaise Zabini, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Pansy Parkinson, Good Severus Snape, Good Slytherins, Good Theodore Nott, Half-troll Millicent Bulstrode, If I write more of this series there'll be more of that, Little bit of Dumbledore bashing, M/M, Slytherin Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Slytherin Harry Potter, the other three were, why wasnt that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 17:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredomsMuse/pseuds/boredomsMuse
Summary: All Weasley's are in Gryffindor, it's a fact of Hogwarts.  Weasley's have red hair and red robes.All Slytherins are evil, it's a fact of Hogwarts.  Slytherins are cunning, cruel, and selfish.Fred and George Weasley might just prove both these facts wrong.





	1. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a thing I thought of ages ago and mentioned to [ShanaStoryteller](http://shanastoryteller.tumblr.com) and she seemed to like it. You know how you do things like write thousands of words to impress your writing crushes?   
> Yeeeeah. I have so much for this au now.
> 
> [Also you should check out my blog. I post my original writing there, and when I get the chance imma upload a cute drawing I did for this au](https://kailsmusings.wordpress.com/)

As the Sorting Hat is placed upon Harry Potter’s head, one thought becomes very clear.

‘ _ Not Slytherin, not Slytherin _ .’

It’s not the first time the Sorting Hat has heard such a plea.  It doesn’t take long for even the muggleborn children to learn of Slytherin’s reputation.  

‘ _ Not Slytherin, hmm? _ ’  The hat considers.

‘ _ Anywhere _ _ but Slytherin _ .’  Harry confirms, words so firm the Hat’s almost surprised he didn’t say them aloud.  The hat takes note of his preference as it does any other, searching deeper into the mind of the Boy Who Lived.  

Not a bad thinker, it supposes, but not a good fore thinker.  Without the drive that would find him home amongst the Ravenclaws.  He’s certainly loyal and hardworking, but both traits are tainted by a fear he’ll return to every holiday.  Perhaps best not to put him in Hufflepuff then. There is courage, the hat sees, and a desire to do what’s right above all else.  It would not be a disaster to place the boy in Gryffindor. 

However, the boy will surely find his place among the Slytherin, the hat knows.  He has a cunning and a resourcefulness that cannot be ignored. A thirst to prove himself, one that would be better served in a place that does not encourage recklessness.

Yet he doesn’t  _ want _ to belong there, and that could certainly make his time at Hogwarts harder.  Quite the opposite of what the hat is here to do. 

Perhaps this isn’t a problem it can solve with merely surface level thoughts.

‘ _ Not Ravenclaw, nor Hufflepuff I would say. _ ’  It informs Harry, closely noting his reactions.  ‘ _ Though I suppose Gryffindor could do _ .’  Immediately the boy perks up.

‘ _ Yes _ !’  He agrees.  ‘ _ Ron says he’ll be a Gryffindor. _ ’  Ah, another Weasley to sort, according to Harry’s thoughts.  And one he’s already friends with, that would certainly make settling easier.  Still, that hat must ask.

‘ _ But then, you are certainly fit for Slytherin. _ ’  Panic floods Harry’s thoughts, passing too quickly for even the hat to get a true reading beyond protest.  

‘ _ Please not Slytherin. _ ’  Harry is meek in the next moment, like a child scolded for grabbing a snack before dinner.  Yes, there is certainly more here than simply the houses reputation.

‘ _ Oh?  Why not? _ ’  The hat prompts.  It sees the answer Harry means to give – that Ron won’t be there, that Malfoy already is.  But this time it is quick enough to sees the answer Harry tries not to give.

The way Malfoy had reminded Harry of Dudley and his friends.  With his entitled tone and smug expression as Ron’s smile dropped just a fraction.  

Hagrid’s words – there aint been a wizard or witch who went bad that wasn’t in Slytherin – spoken in same tone as Aunt Petunia’s favourite word.  Freak.

That You Know Who, the man who murdered his parents, had been one of them.

And beneath all that, the hat sees the answer that it was looking for.  

Harry has spent his whole life as the outcast.  The wrong looking kid, the freak that ruined his Aunt and Uncle’s perfect life.  He’s only ever been hated; he’s never had any friends. But here, in the wizarding world, he’s more than that.  Harry Potter is important here, people  _ like _ Harry Potter.  

He knows it won’t last, but he doesn’t want to speed that up by being sorted into Slytherin.  Can’t he enjoy this just a little longer?

If the hat could sigh, it would.  The hat could sort Harry into Gryffindor, let him escape into a world where he’s adored for no reason.  But what would that fix, in the long run? Harry would always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, always trying to prove he’s worthy but never believing it.

In Slytherin, things won’t be so easy.  No one there will worship the ground he walks on; in Slytherin his friends will be true.  They won’t place him on pedestal; they’ll give him the tools to make his own. The hat can think of no better house to crush the doubt in Harry’s heart, to convince him he is worthy of greatness.

And perhaps, the hat considers, this choice will better things for more than just Harry.

‘ _ It had best be… _ ’

“Slytherin!” 

 

Harry doesn’t watch Slytherin cheer.  Rather he looks at the three silent tables.  Some students seem shocked, others mad, more still are muttering between themselves.  There is none of the excitement from moments ago, when Harry sat upon the sorting stool.  

They hate him.  Of course they do, he’s a Slytherin, he must be evil.  He hadn’t thought he was evil.

Trying very hard not to look at Ron or Hagrid, who are surely disgusted, Harry shuffles to the edge of the Slytherin table.  He doesn't sit right on the edge, where everyone could see him, but he makes sure not to sit too close to the… the other Slytherins.  They don't seem all that interested in him now that they were done bragging. 

Maybe Ron was wrong too, maybe he’d also get into Slytherin.  Then maybe Hagrid was wrong about it being evil. Or maybe they’d be the first not evil Slytherins.  At least they’d be together.

“Ron Weasley.”  Harry zones back into the sorting ceremony, his fingers crossed beneath the table.

The hat is barely been placed upon Ron’s head before it is calling “Gryffindor!”.  Harry shrinks back into his seat, trying very hard not to cry. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea?  He should never have opened that stupid letter.

“It wasn’t that fast with us.”  A sudden voice to Harry’s right says, making Harry jump.  He turns to find a tall red-head sitting there, looking mockingly focused on the sorting ceremony.  “That hat took forever it did.” 

“It was quicker for you, I think.  It’d already seen the better twin’s head.”  A voice to the left says. Harry turns to find an identical red head sitting on his other side.  When had they gotten there? How had he not noticed? They look vaguely familiar…

“Um…”  He tries to ask either question but can’t quite find his words.  The twins don’t seem to mind, turning to him.

“Oh hello Harry, we hadn’t even seen you there.”  The right twin says, grinning ear to ear.

“Remember us?”  The second asks.  “We’re Ron’s older, better brothers.”  He gestures to where Ron’s sitting among the Gryffindors, already making friends with the people sitting next to him.

“You guys were the ones that went first, right?”  Harry recalls, trying not to stare at how much better things look on the red and gold table. 

“That was us!”  The first says. “I’m Feorge.”  He holds out a hand perfectly in time with his twin.

“And I’m Gred.”  The other says. Harry frowns.

“Wasn’t it Fred and George?”  He asks, looking from the first to the second.

“Ah, he’s a genius.”  Fred grins. “I wonder why he wasn’t put in Ravenclaw.”  The first twin turns to the table and Harry jolts to find it full of food.  The sorting ceremony was over apparently, now all the tables were lined with food that Fred was shovelling onto his plate.  Harry’s stomach rumbled, but he hesitated.

“Eat up Harry.”  George says, helpfully depositing roast chicken and vegetables onto Harry’s plate.  “You’re a growing boy, need your carbs.”

“That’s what mum always says anyway.”  Fred adds. Cautiously, Harry takes a mouthful of roast.  Then he throws caution to the wide. When was the last time he had food this good?

“I know I said to eat.  But not too quick, you’ll make yourself sick.”  Fred says, scolding though in a tone Harry’s never been scolded before.  It’s almost… kind or something.

“George was the one that said to eat.”  Harry points out, because he doesn’t know how to reply to that tone.

“Exactly, I am George.”  Fred claims. He grins as Harry frowns deeper.

“No you’re not.”  He says.

“Ah, we like you already.”  George decides. “You haven’t a clue how many of our brothers fall for that.”  

“It’s ridiculous really, we haven’t even swapped seats.”  Fred adds. 

“I thought Ron said all his family were in Gryffindor.”  Harry says nervously. These are wizard’s after all, they could be fooling him with a spell. 

“Oh they are.”  George hums. “All but us, of course.”

“Quite the shock for everyone involved.”  Fred says. “The hall went completely silent.  I think Professor Snape even checked to make sure Peeves hadn’t possessed the hat.”  He adds, gesturing over to the teacher sitting nearest them. Snape is watching them all closely, doesn't even bother to stop when he was caught.  He’s sitting next to a man in purple robes, the one Harry had seen at the pub with Hagrid. 

“Ah.”  Harry winces, quickly looking away as his head began to ache.

“You alright Harry?”  George asks.

“Fine.”  Harry mumbles.  Maybe he shouldn’t think about Hagrid and how disappointed he must be to see Harry in Slytherin.  

“Good, because we’ve got quite a lot to do after the feast.”  George says. “You’ll want to know all the best tunnels to get to your classes.”

“Tunnels?”  Harry frowns.

“There’s heaps of them under the school.”  Fred says. “Much easier than using the moving stairs.”  

“You’ll be the only first year not to get lost getting to class.”  George grins. “That’ll be some bragging rights right there.”

As the meal goes on, Harry forgets what house he’s in.  It’s easy to fall into the quick conversations between Fred and George.  They talk about just about everything – from gossip, to classes, to the pranks they’ll warn him about, and the fact there will definitely be pranks they  _ won’t _ warn him about.  Throughout dinner, it’s like nothing’s changed at all.

Then dinner ends and Harry stands in his new dorm.  Rooming with Draco Malfoy and his little gang, it’s much easier to remember Slytherin is where the evil wizards go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys enjoyed, let me know. That's the motivation I need to write more parts of this story (surrounding this family of misfits and also Snape because yay good Snape)


	2. Millicent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, you ever write Slytherins that aren't Draco and get upset that they all have such limited characterization? Because I do

“Watch out, here comes the troll.”  Millicent hears someone snicker as she enters the common room.  Rage boils in her blood, screams at her to hit them. A good whack to the head and they’d never snicker again.

Begrudgingly, Millicent doesn’t listen to her instincts.  Her uncle has drilled into her which are good instincts and which are bad.  Hurting people, he says, is a bad instinct. She doesn’t quite understand  _ why _ , but he’s the only person that’s ever cared for her so she listens.  Millicent walks passed the third years and takes a seat.

Five minutes later, when she’s still stuck on the first page of her book, she hears them speak up again.  

“Is it trying to study?”  One sneers. “That’s just sad, everyone knows trolls are stupid.”

“Except trolls, apparently.”  A second mocks. Bad instincts, Millicent repeats, her grip tightening on the book.

She hadn’t had high hopes for Hogwarts anyway, she tells herself.  It was just another place her mother could leave her. Millicent had expected no kindness from her schoolmates, no friendship.  And she hadn’t wanted any either.

“Makes you wonder how she became a Slytherin.”  Someone says. “I thought you had to be clever to be cunning.”  

Millicent’s grip on her book tightens, straining the spine.  She hadn’t wanted any friends.

“Oi!”  She jolts up at the voice, looking up to find one of the Weasley twins standing in front of her.  The second is nowhere in sight. That puts Millicent on guard. The pair have taken to pranking all the first years, apparently its her turn.  “You’re Bulstrode, right?”

“Yes…”  Millicent answers hesitantly, trying to find whatever joke the Weasley’s have planned.

“Great!  Come with me!”  He says.

“No.”  Millicent frowns.  “I’m not stupid.” The third years sitting across the room snicker at her claim, she tries very hard to ignore them.

“Of course not.”  The Weasley agrees.  “But you are strong, and my brother and I could use that.”

“You’re not just pranking me?”  Millicent asks, still frowning.

“Like this?  I’m insulted.  Do you think I’m an amateur?”  He says. Millicent still hesitates, but if this really is a prank it’s probably best just to get it over with.  She sighs and gets up. “Great! This way.” Weasley grins. He leads Millicent out of the dungeons and into the upper halls of Hogwarts, chatting all the way.  Not once does Millicent catch sight of his brother, or Potter who seems to follow the two everywhere. Not until they reach the East Corridor. 

“There you are George.”  The other Weasley, Fred she guesses, greets.  “Flinch is gone, but we won’t have long.”

“What’s going on?”  Millicent frowns.

“Flinch confiscated something from us.”  George says. 

“Well actually he’s confiscated a lot of things from us.”  Fred adds.

“That’s true.  But this time it’s actually something we need back.  One of a kind.” George explains.

“We tried to alohamora the lock, but it won’t open.  We figured since you’re half-troll, you’d be strong enough to just break the thing.”  Fred elaborates.

“So… you want me to help you?”  Millicent rephrases, her frown deepening.

“Precisely.”  The twins say at once.  That’s… odd. She’s never been asked for help before.  Although it could still be a trick.

“How do I know you won’t lock me in there to get in trouble once I break it?”  She asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking very intimidating. The Weasley’s don’t seem to notice.

“Well we’ll be going in with you.”  Fred says. 

“And moreover, that’d be more a revenge thing.  Silly to revenge if you haven’t done anything.” George adds.  

“Okay…”  Millicent accepts.  “But what’s in it for me?”  She asks.

“We’ll hex those third years for you.”  George offers. “They were being right jerks, they definitely deserve it.”  He adds, for Fred’s sake. Hurting people is a bad instinct, but her uncle never said anything about letting Weasley’s hurt people for you.

“Alright.”  She agrees. “Step aside.”  The twins do and Millicent walks over to the lock.  It’s a heavy duty lock, clearly spelled not to unlock, but wizards so rarely do anything to avoid breaking.  It only takes a minute to tear the lock into two. Behind her, the twins cheer.

“Wonderful.”  Fred grins, walking into Flinch’s office.

“Absolutely brilliant.”  George agrees. Millicent tries not to grin too wide.  They walk past her and take a blank piece of paper off of Flinch’s desk.

“All this for a blank bit of paper?”  She frowns. 

“It’s a special blank bit of paper!”  George assures, guiding her back out of the room.  

“Maybe we’ll explain it to you one day.”  Fred says, tucking the paper away. “Until then it’s a secret.”  

“I don’t like secrets.”  Millicent says, glaring at the paper.  

“Then a secret-telling hex is just the spell we should put on those third-years.”  George decides. “Or we could put fire-breath potion in their drinks.”

“Fire-breathing isn’t a hex.”  Millicent argues.

“Not fire-breathing, fire-breath.”  Fred says. “It’s a potion we invented in first year.  It’s like the fire-breathing potion, but minus all that stuff to keep your throat from burning.”

“We could always go with a classic, the stickfast hex.”  George suggests.

“What do you reckon Bulstrode?”  Fred asks. Millicent thinks for a moment before grinning wide and rather troll-like.

“The bat-bogey hex.”  She says. “Right in the middle of the evening speech tonight.”  

“I like the way you think.”  George grins.

* * *

Despite the planned hex, Millicent’s surprised when George and Fred drop into the seats next to her.  Even more surprised when Potter follows, though certainly more meekly.

“Uh, hi.”  The Boy Who Lived greets.  In the weeks since school started, he’s gone from superstar of the school to, well, an average Slytherin really.  Except even Slytherin doesn’t like him. Or at least, their year doesn’t like him. Which is mostly because Malfoy doesn’t.  

“Don’t worry.”  Fred whispers to her. 

“We haven’t told Harry the plan.”  George finishes. Before she can say anything, Dumbledore stands up to make his speech.  No sooner has he taken a breath then the third years who’d been mocking her start screaming as bats fly from their noses.  Millicent looks to the twins, both are grinning and tucking their wands back up their sleeves. She hadn’t even seen either draw them.

It only takes the teachers a few minutes to reverse the hex and restore order, but Millicent only wanted a few minutes.  The third years have made fools of themselves in front of the entire year, they’ll never live it down. It’s no bone breaking, but it’s a close second.

“I can’t believe you two.”  Potter sighs a few minutes later, though Millicent can see he’s trying not to smile.  

“We have no idea what you’re talking about.”  The twins say in unison, both grinning.

“If we did have any idea, we’d say the girl who thought this up was a genius.  Wouldn’t you George?” Asks the twin to her right, putting an arm around Millicent’s shoulders.

“I would indeed Fred.”  The twin to her left agrees, putting his arm around Millicent’s shoulders as well.  The girl frowns, looking between the two and trusting her instincts when she speaks next.

“I thought you were George and you were Fred.”  She says, looking from right to left. The twins seem surprised to have been called out. 

“They like to try to trick people.”  Potter explains, since the twins are too busy being surprised.  “I don’t know how anyone falls for it, the look completely different.”  

“They feel different.”  Millicent agrees, before flushing at the odd look that gets her.  Usually she’s much more careful with her words. “It’s a troll thing.”  She mutters.

“Well that makes sense.”  Fred speaks up, apparently over his shock.

“We’ll have to see if there’s a spell to fool your troll senses.”  George decides. “We’ve yet to find one that fools Harry.”

“It’d be much easier if he explained  _ how _ he knows.”  Fred complains.

“I told you, you’re just different!”  Potter groans. Millicent decides in that moment that, no matter what, she mustn’t be fooled over which twin is which.  Immediately, Millicent berates herself for thinking this will last any longer than dinner. The Weasley’s were just paying off a debt, tomorrow they’ll forget she exists.

It’s easy to forget that harsh reality as she’s pulled into their little world.  They talk complete nonsense, never minding when she doesn’t speak up, and minding even less when she does.  It’s… nice. 

* * *

The next day, before classes, she’s called into Professor Snape’s office.  The third years from yesterday are already in the room, glaring at her as she enters.  This can’t be good.

“Miss Bulstrode, please take a seat.”  Snape instructs. “These students believe you were the cause behind last night’s ruckus.”

“I wasn’t.”  Millicent quickly denies, glaring back at them.  “Why would I?” 

“Because you were mad we were talking about our grades.”  One of the third years cut in.

“That’s true!”  Another backs up.  “We were talking about how well we were doing in charms and she got really mad at us for no reason!  She started shouting and threw her book at us!”

“I think she’s jealous.”  The last adds.

“I’ve already heard your side of the story.”  Snape glares at the third years. “Miss Bulstrode, what is yours?”

“That never happened.”  Millicent claims. “I never threw anything!”  How dare they accuse her of that when she’d tried very hard not to do  _ worse _ .

“Yes you did!”  A third year huffs.  “It’s because she’s a troll Professor Snape.  She’s dangerous.” 

“That’s enough.”  Snape calls. Only then does Millicent realize she’d stood, pushing her chair back and all but growling at the three, terrified looking third years.  “Miss Bulstrode, please return to your seat. I think-“

“Professor Snape!”  Fred bursts into the room, George not far behind him.  “Millicent had nothing to do with the hexes.” 

“I’m not paid enough for this.”  Snape mutters under his breath. “Mr Weasley, you cannot burst into my office unannounced.”

“But you’ve got the wrong Slytherin!”  George declares.

“Then please, enlighten me on what really happened.”  Snape sighs.

“We placed the hexes on these jerks.”  Fred says, expression and tone suddenly overly remorseful.  “We saw young Millicent being bullied by these third years, and we know it was not the best of ideas,”

“But because we are incredibly impulsive.”  George cut in.

“Yes, very impulsive.”  Fred agrees, before turning on his guilty voice once more.  “We decided to avenge the cruelty done to our dear friend.”

“We thought, perhaps, public humiliation would soften their bullying ways, help them see the light.  Dear Millicent had no idea.” George claims, his own voice dramatically remorseful. “But, if they are here telling your lies clearly it was ineffective.”

“Most ineffective.”  Fred nods. “We will leave their punishment now in your very capable hands.”  Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Snape sighs again.

“You can’t believe them!  They’re Fred and George, they’ll take credit for any prank.”  One of the third years accuses.

“I resent that.”  Both twins say, dramatic tones dropped.  

“The Weasley’s have never taken credit for someone else’s prank.”  Snape reminds. “Normally I would reward you both house points for standing up to bullying, but due to your methods I would simply have to take them back anyway.”  He says. “However, ten points from Slytherin a piece to your three, for bullying. And a further ten each for lying.”

“What?”  One of them jumps up.

“That’s not fair!”  Another snaps.

“Then perhaps you’ll learn your listen.  You’re all dismissed for your classes.” Snape says.  “I said dismissed.” He repeats when one of the third years starts to protest further.  The three grumble as they leave.

“Well, that was a rather interesting start to the day, don’t you think Millicent?”  Fred asks, guiding Millicent from the room.

“Why would you own up that?  You could have gotten in trouble.”  Millicent frowns. Sure, they had done the hex but she had told them too.  And even if she hadn’t know, most would have let her take the fall anyway.

“Of course we owned up.”  George brushes off. “What kind of friends would we be if we’d let you get dentation?”

“And with Snape.”  Both twins shiver.

“Friends?”  Millicent repeats the word like it’s fragile, surprised to have heard it and more surprised to be saying it.

“Of course.”  Fred says. “Though don’t think that saves you from the first year pranks.”  He warns, ruffling her hair.

“But it does mean you can help us prank Harry, if you think of anything.”  George offers.

Maybe Hogwarts wasn’t so bad after all.


	3. Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote Harry's, and then I tried to make Millicent's about the same number of pages.
> 
> And then I got to Draco and through that system out the window. These next few chapters are way longer than those two.
> 
> Also I used ShanaStorytellers name for Tiffany because I liked it.

Draco Malfoy knows three things about the chamber of secrets:

  1. Harry Potter did not open it, no matter what gossip that duel started,
  2. _He_ didn’t open it, no matter what rumours Pansy is spreading, and,
  3. His father would want him to take the blame but Draco… Draco doesn’t want to.



He tells Pansy and Blaise it’s because he doesn’t need someone’s help to look badass and powerful.  They act like they buy that, which is nice, because they don’t press for answers he can’t give them.  How is Draco meant to explain that he’s… he’s starting to think this is  _ wrong _ .  

People are getting hurt.  He never thought about people getting hurt.  

Except, hurting people was always the cause, wasn’t it?  The deatheaters, his father, have always wanted people to suffer.  To die. Why? 

Draco can’t figure it out anymore.  He tries to remember, but all he sees is the terrified look of that petrified Hufflepuff.  They have herbology together, and last week she handed him his gloves. It feels like a small thing, but no one just… does nice things for Draco.  Not for no reason like that.

Now she’s lying in the medical wing.  Why? She didn’t choose to be born to muggle parents.  

God, his father would backhand him for simply the thought.  He’s the son of a deatheater, he shouldn’t feel sorry for a mudblood.  When Voldemort returns, he’s expected to become the dark lord’s heir. His whole life hinges on the idea that purebloods are better, more deserving, more perfect.  Draco can’t be doubting that.

Except he is.  

“What’s with the long face?”  Blaise greets, taking the seat next to Draco at breakfast.  “Finally growing a conscious over your actions, oh great Slytherin heir?”  

“I’m not the heir.”  Draco snaps, glaring to try to cover up his sudden panic.  How can Blaise tell what he’s thinking? Can anyone else?

“Geez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the lake this morning.”  Blaise frowns. 

“I’m just not in the mood for you this morning.”  Draco huffs, taking an aggressive bite of his toast.  For a moment Blaise just silently watches him and Draco is careful to look like he’s not a different person from a week ago.  He’s still the same bloodtraitor-hating deatheater-to-be he’s always been.

“You know,” Blaise says quietly, “I won’t care if you had grown a conscious.”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Draco glares.

“My mother and I have never been particularly with the deatheaters anyway.”  Blaise shrugs.

“You’ve never been particularly against them either.”  Draco points out. 

“We don’t like conflict.”  Blaise claims. “But I’ve never quite gotten the whole blood purity thing.”

“Well I get it.”  Draco says. “And it’s incredibly important.”  Who's he trying to convince here? Blaise or himself?

“Sure it is.”  Blaise rolls his eyes.  “I’m just saying, I couldn’t care less if you change your mind on it.  And if you’ve having trouble, you can always talk to the twins. Everyone knows what side of the war they’re on.”

“I’m not talking to a Weasley about issues I’m not having.”  Draco snaps. Although now that Blaise has brought them up he has to wonder, if he shouldn’t hate muggleborns, should he hate the Weasleys for siding with them?  Blaise drops the subject as Pansy arrives, and Draco tries very hard to smother his anti-deatheater thoughts. 

It doesn’t work much.

* * *

It is, without a doubt, Blaise’s fault the Weasley’s corner him not two days later.  Draco’s going to kill him.

“What do you want?”  Draco demands, glaring at the pair.  Even they haven’t been able to keep their cheery mood this year, their grins not quite meeting their eyes these days.  It seems no one’s unaffected by the basilisk. Not that Draco notices. Or cares.

“We were just wondering where you were headed Malfoy.”  The one on the right claims.

“Bit late to be wandering around alone these days.”  The other adds.

“Although I suppose as a pureblood you have nothing to worry about.”  The first continues. Okay, so many it wasn’t Blaise fault.

“It’s none of your business what I’m doing.”  Draco says, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.  “What are you both doing up?” 

“We’re looking for a way to close the chamber, obviously.”  The left twin answers. 

“Which I suppose makes us enemies right now, doesn’t it?”  The right twin says, leaning in closer to Draco.

“What?  I had nothing to do with the chamber opening!  How many times do I have to say it?!” Draco snaps.  So it’s Pansy’s fault they followed him. She’s the one that started the stupid rumour.

“More times than you have.”  The right twin claims.

“Especially when you’re walking around like you’re looking for victims.”  The left accuses.

“I’m not!”  Draco argues.

“Then what are you doing?”  The twins say in unison. Draco doesn’t mean to tell them.  It’s just that he’s so worked up, he can’t help it.

“I’m looking for the entrance, I want to stop this damn it!”  The twins seem surprised by the answer, staring at Draco as he slowly realizes what he's admitted.  Great, now everyone’ll know he’s a bloodtraitor by tomorrow. “Leave me alone.” He mutters, pushing past the twins and continuing his search.  How hard can it be to find a basilisk in a castle, anyway? 

* * *

Draco waits for the other shoe to drop.  He waits for the sneers, for the mutterings of ‘bloodtraitor’, for the howler his father will undoubtedly send.  But days go by and nothing happens. Which should help him relax, at least a little, but it doesn’t. Maybe that’s because nothing happens in his search for the chamber, either.  

“Draco?  Are you even listening?”  Pansy huffs, snapping Draco from his thoughts.  

“What?  Sorry, what were you saying Pansy?”  He asks, focusing on the very annoyed looking Slytherin.  To his other side, Blaise chuckles lightly. 

“You’ve seemed pretty off these last couple days.”  Blaise comments before Pansy can snap at him. “You alright?”

“I’m just not sleeping well.”  Draco shrugs. 

“Thinking about the heir?”  Blaise guesses, smirking wider when Draco shoots him a glare.  He’d been hoping Blaise had forgotten that morning. No such luck apparently.

“That’s exactly who I was talking about.”  Pansy cuts in, glaring at the both of them.  She’s never liked being ignored. “How dare-” 

“ _ Draco _ .”  A hissing voice cuts through the halls, freezing Draco in his tracks.

“Seriously Draco, what’s wrong with you today?”  Pansy demands, stopping once she notices he has.

“I forgot something in the dorm.”  Draco says. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“What did you forget?”  Blaise asks, frowning. 

“Just, something.”  Draco answers, distracted.  He turns to walk in the opposite direction.  “I’ll catch up.”

“You’d better not be late!”  Pansy warns. She huffs when Draco just brushes her off.  “What is wrong with him lately?”

“ _ Draco _ .”  The hissing voice repeats.

“ _ I’m coming _ .”  Draco hisses under his breath.  Once he’s out of sight, he quickly starts following the voice.  He’s in an empty, mostly forgotten corner of the school when the snake appears on a nearby windowsill. 

“ _ Draco _ .”  It greets, cooing now rather than demanding.  Draco smiles at the small snake, offering his fingers.  The snake’s tongue sneaks out, brushing just past the tips.  

“ _ Did you find it? _ ”  Draco asks, scratching atop the snakes head.  Before the creature can reply, there’s the sound of fabric dropping.  Draco turns to find Harry fucking Potter standing to his left, a pile of fabric behind him.  Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no.

“You can speak parseltongue.”  Potter says, eyes as wide as Draco’s.

“When did you get there?”  Draco demands. “How?!”

“I… I heard the snake saying your name.”  Potter explains. “I followed it. I didn’t know you could speak parseltongue.”

“Well go ahead, go tell everyone.  I’m sure your little Weasley friends can follow it up with the fact I’m a bloodtraitor.”  Draco snarls, trying to act like he isn’t about to start freaking out. His life is over. 

“You’re a… what are you talking about Malfoy?”  Potter frowns.

“Like they haven’t told you.”  Draco scoffs.

“Told me what?”  Potter prompts. Argh, of course Harry goddamn Potter is going to make him say it.  That’s just like Potter.

“That I’m trying to stop of the Heir of Slytherin.”  Draco admits, practically spitting the confession. 

“You’re… trying to stop the heir?”  Potter frowns. Shit, did he really not know?  Great, now Draco’s just dug a deeper hole for himself.  Good going Draco. Fuck. “I thought you were the heir.”

“Of course I’m not the heir!”  Draco snaps. “Do you really think I’m that horrible?!”  

“Well… you are kind of a huge jerk.”  Potter says. “And you do hate anyone who’s not a ‘pureblood’.”

“Yeah well-”  Draco cuts himself off as he realizes he doesn’t really have an argument.  If you’d told him about the Chamber last year, Draco would have been all for it.  But it’s different, hearing about something and seeing it happen. “I was wrong.” Draco mumbles.  “No one deserves this. Especially not for something as stupid as parentage.” For a long moment they’re both silent, Draco staring off to the side and Potter staring at him.  Then the snake on the windowsill nips at Draco’s finger. “Ow.” He complains, glaring at the innocent looking creature.

“ _ I found it _ .”  The snake says.

“ _ Found what _ ?”  Potter asks, looking from the snake to Draco.

“The entrance.”  Draco explains. “To the Chamber.”

“Really?!”  Potter gasps.

“ _ Show me _ .”  Draco instructs the snake.  It slips back into the wall, hissing to guide Draco through the halls.  

“Wait!  We’re meant to be in class!”  Potter points out, grabbing Draco by the wrist to stop him.

“There’s no time for that!”  Draco snaps. 

“I know, so just,” Potter trails off, covering them both with his cloak.  

“How do you have an invisibility cloak?!”  Draco hisses, glaring.

“There’s no time for that.”  Potter claims, starting to shuffle after the snake.  Draco shuts up and walks with him. If only because he’ll be spotted if he doesn’t.

The snake leads them to the third floor, to the sink in the girl’s bathroom.  

“ _ Through here _ .”  The snake announces, laying on one of the taps. 

“I don’t think humans can fit through there.”  Potter says, slipping the cloak off of them.

“It opens.”  A new voice says.  The boys jump, finding a ghostly girl before them.  “I saw it.”

“How?”  Draco demands.

“I don’t know.”  The ghost says. “I don’t remember.  All I remember is glowing red eyes. And then I died.”

“The basilisk.”  Draco mutters, turning back to the sink.  “This has to be it.”

“You know what’s down there?”  Potter asks.

“It’s not hard Potter.  They don’t call it the Heir to Slytherin for nothing.  What were you expecting, a lion?” Draco rolls his eyes, turning back to the girl.  “Are you sure you don’t remember how to open it?”

“I was a bit distracted with the dying part.”  The girl snaps, anger flaring. “If you’re going to be rude you can leave.”  She demands, the toilets starting to bubble.

“I’m sorry Mrytle.”  Potter quickly cuts in.  “He’s a twat, he can’t help it.”

“Excuse me for wanting answers.”  Draco huffs. “We can’t go in there if we can’t open it.”

“Why go in there?  We just need to seal it.”  Potter claims.

“We can’t seal the chamber of secrets!”  Draco snaps. “It’s an escape route, in case anything goes wrong in the castle.”

“Terrible escape route, if it’s filled with a murderer.”  Myrtle huffs, turning her nose up at the sink.

“It’s not filled with a murderer!”  Draco glares. “It’s just a snake.”

“It killed me!”  Myrtle shouts.

“Voldemort killed you.”  Draco snaps back. “He was the one controlling the snake last time it opened.”

“How can you know that?”  Potter frowns.

“Honestly Potter, don’t you ever read a history book?  Last time the chamber opened it was when Voldemort was at Hogwarts.  Who else would have done it?”

“I don’t remember any Voldemort in my year.”  Myrtle claims. 

“Father says he went by a different name back then.”  Draco sighs. “No one knows what.”

“But if Voldemort opened it last time, who opened it this time?”  Potter asks. 

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be here.”  Draco snaps. “It has to be an aspiring deatheater.”

“It was a girl.”  Myrtle spoke up. “A girl opened it up.”

“You saw her?”  Harry says. 

“If you saw her open it, why don’t you know how?”  Draco demands.

“I was hiding.”  Myrtle says. “Living people are horrible.  I only came out now because Harry was here.”  She adds, sighing at the boy in a way that makes Draco want to gag.  Potter gives her an awkward smile before turning back to Draco.

“So it’s a girl, but who?  Could it be Pansy?” Potter suggests.

“If it were Pansy she’d have bragged about it.”  Draco dismisses. “It has to be someone else.”

“At least we’ve narrowed our suspects down?”  Potter says, trying to lighten the mood. Draco eyes him a moment before turning to the snake.

“ _ Can you watch the entrance?  Let me know what happens. _ ”  He instructs.  The snake lifts it’s head enough to nod.  “ _ Thank you Eris _ .”  Draco hums, scratching the top of the small snakes head.

“You named the snake?”  Potter frowns.

“You named your owl.”  Draco huffs. “She’ll come find me if she finds out who the heir is, just like she found me about the entrance.”

“Okay.  Then once we know who the heir is we can get them to open the chamber and we’ll stop the snake.”  Potter decides.

“We don’t need to stop the snake.”  Draco snaps. “We need to stop the heir.  They’re the one doing all this, not the basilisk.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll stop the heir not the snake.”  Potter gives in, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“Whatever.”  Draco huffs. “I’m going back to class.  Don’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I won’t.”  Potter assures.

“I’m serious Potter, if anyone finds out I’ll deny it.  And you’ll wake up covered in snake bites, you might be able to speak parseltongue but I know the snakes here.”  He threatens.

“Malfoy, I’m not going to tell anyone.”  Potter swears. “What good would that do me?”   Draco doesn’t answer, just storms off from the bathroom.

“What’s his problem?”  Myrtle huffs, poking her tongue out at Draco’s back.

“I don’t know anymore.”  Potter sighs.

* * *

Draco’s not avoiding Potter.  He’s not. Why would he even do that?  Blaise doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  And he’s definitely not relieved to see Potter not in the room when they’re confined to their dorms early one night.

“Wonder where Potter is.”  Blaise comments, staring at the empty bed.  He doesn’t comment on Crabbe and Goyle’s empty beds.  Then again, they all saw the two sitting in the common room stuffing their face on the dorm-delivered dinner.

“Probably off losing us more house points.”  Pansy claims, sitting on the chair in the room.

“Even Potter couldn’t manage to get out of a lockdown.”  Draco says, knowing full well he could. “He’s probably just with the Weasley’s.  Or Bulstrode.” 

“I suppose.”  Blaise hums. “Wonder what this lockdown’s about anyway.  The professors were rather vague.”

“I bet the heir’s done something.”  Pansy says. “Maybe he’s finally manned up and killed somebody.  I hope it’s Granger.”

“Granger was petrified.  I don’t think the heir went and killed people he’d already petrified.”  Blaise rolls his eyes.

“Oi, you three.”  They turn to see the Weasley twins at the door.  They seem… tense, almost distraught. “Have you seen Harry?”

“He’s probably with Bulstrode.”  Blaise repeats Draco’s guess. The twins share a look and Draco realises they've already checked with Bulstrode.  Potter's not there.

“Right.  Thanks.” One of the twins says as they quickly take their leave.  It's not Draco's problem, he tells himself. He doesn't care if anything had happens to Potter.

“I'm going to get something to eat before Crabbe and Goyle eat it all.”  He says.

“Good idea.”  Pansy says, standing.  

“Actually Pansy, there was something I wanted you to look at.”  Blaise says just as Draco is starting to panic. Quickly sneaking from the room, he tells himself that it was merely a coincidence.  Blaise most certainly hadn't distracted her on purpose.

 

Draco uses the tunnels to sneak from the dorm.  Being friends with the castle’s snakes has some perks, like knowing about tunnels even the Weasley twins don’t.  Or at least ones they don’t use. But tunnels can only get him so far before he has to resort to sneaking through the halls, jumping at every sound and thinking about how much easier this would be with an invisibility cloak.

Eris finds him around the corner from the girls bathroom.

‘ _ It opened.’   _ She hisses.

“ _ Yeah I noticed _ .”  Draco hisses right back.

‘ _ The girl had red hair, I didn’t hear her name. _ ’  Eris reports.  ‘ _ Then that boy went in, with the yellow haired teacher and a boy with red hair _ .’

“Lovegood?”  Draco frowns.  “Why would they take Lovegood, surely they know he’s useless.  Everyone knows he’s useless.” If the thought of Harry and his friends being ‘helped’ by that idiot made him run the last hall, well no one was around to see anyway.

The entrance is still open when Draco gets there.  It’s impressive and dramatic, just want he would expect from Slytherin’s founder.  

“What are  _ you _ doing here?”  Moaning Myrtle demands, with endless destain. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”  Draco huffs, glaring up at her.

“Are you here to kill Harry?”

“What?  No!” Draco recoils at the idea.

…

He’s definitely getting disowned.  At best.

“Pity.”  Myrtle says, turning away.  “It was the Weasley girl who opened it, you know.”  She adds before disappearing into one of the stalls.

“Of course it was.”  Pansy is just going to love that.  Draco turns back to the entrance, takes a deep breath, and jumps in.  He most certainly does not scream on the way down.

With Eris leading it takes Draco no time to reach the entrance to the main cavern, unknowingly avoiding Weasley and Lovegood along the way.  The parseltongue command comes to his mind easily and, painfully slowly, the door opens.

‘ _ Shut your eyes! _ ’  Eris warns in a panicked hiss.  Draco doesn’t hesitate to obey and that fact saves his life.  

“Malfoy?”  He hears Potter shout over heavy footfalls.  And then those footfalls are replaced by a heavy crashing sound.  Draco winces, that sounded like it hurt. 

‘ _ Stop!’   _ Draco orders, putting as much power behind the word as he can.  He doesn’t like controlling snakes, but there isn’t really much choice here.  The sound of slithering stops. ‘ _ Close your eyes. _ ’  He orders.

‘ _ She listened _ .’  Eris assures, letting Draco relax and open his eyes.  Potter is collapsed on the ground, fumbling around for his glasses.  Behind him is the largest snake Draco has ever seen, a beautiful specimen who looks half-starved and horribly treated.  

Further back is a boy in the uniform of a Slytherin Perfect, though Draco has never seen him before.  He looks furious. 

“Impossible!”  He exclaims. “I’m the heir of Slytherin, the snake listens only to me!” 

“Clearly you’re a terrible Heir.”  Draco glares, making his way into the chamber proper.  “Salazar would be horrified to see how you’ve treated his snake.”

“No!”  The stranger screams.   _ ‘You will obey me!  Kill them!’  _ He calls in.  His parseltongue is all control, there is no care for the being he speaks too.  The horrid tone makes Draco’s spine tingle. Parseltongue was not meant for that, it’s something he can feel in his core.

‘ _ You will obey no one _ .’  He tells the basilisk, tone rivalling the strangers in power but not control.

‘ _ I am the heir to Slytherin. _ ’  The stranger claims, taking a step towards them.  ‘ _ You will do as I say, and I will remake the world as Salazar wanted _ .’  Draco watches anxiously as the basilisk begins to thrash, torn between their two voices.

‘ _ He is not the heir. _ ’  It’s Potter’s voice that rings out now.  Draco looks over to see he’s turned around, staring up at the basilisk with his glasses in place and no fear.  ‘ _ You don’t have to listen to him _ .’  

‘ _ I am doing as Salazar would have wanted!’ _

‘ _ Salazar never wanted this. _ ’  Draco argues.  He doesn’t know that.  At all. But it feels right to say, and that’s all he’s got right now.  At his words, the basilisk stops thrashing. Draco stops breathing.

But she doesn’t open her eyes.  Her tongue sneaks from her mouth and then she’s sliding, slowly and surely towards Draco.

“Yes!  Kill him!”  The stranger shouts.

“Malfoy!”  Harry screams.  

Draco doesn’t move, he lets the basilisk come to him and curl around him.  Even though he’s completely and utterly terrified.

‘ _ Hi _ .’  He greets, feeling a little hysterical.  He could die right now.

‘ _ Hello _ .’  The basilisk greets, her voice rumbling through his very being.  Oh thank god, Draco thinks as he finally lets himself breath again.

“It’s no matter.”  The stranger claims, seething with rage.  He steps in front of the collapsed form of the Weasley girl, and raises the wand in his hand.  “You can not save the girl, in mere moments I will be more than a memory.” Potter hesitates, eying the wand in the strangers hands.  

“A memory…”  Draco frowns.  No wonder the boy didn’t look familiar.  But if he’s a memory, and stealing the Weasley girl’s life, then…  “Potter, he can’t attack us!” 

“What?  But he has my wand!”  Potter frowns. 

“A memory can’t use magic anymore than a ghost can.”  Draco explains. 

“A memory can’t be killed either.”  The memory points out. “There is nothing you can do, soon I will be returned to my full power.  Funny the damage a silly little book can do, especially in the hands of a silly little girl.” Potter shouts with rage, running towards the memory.  It won’t do much. But what’s this book he mentioned?

‘ _ The girl has it. _ ’  The basilisk tells him.  

“The book Harry!  Throw me the book!”  Draco shouts, rushing towards them both.  Potter looks back, confused, before grabbing the leather bound journal and throwing it towards Draco.

“What are you doing?!”  The memory demands. 

“ _ Confringo _ !”  Draco casts the blasting curse and the book lights up with fire.  

It’s completely unscatched as it falls to the floor.

“What?  That’s not possible!”  Draco frowns. 

“You think I would be that easy to defeat?”  The memory laughs. 

“What are we going to do?”  Potter asks. 

“You’ll just have to wait for my life to be restored.  Then I’ll grant you death.” The memory smirks. 

“We have to destroy the book somehow.”  Draco says, looking around desperately. Laying on the ground he spots the sorting hat and sneers.  If he had been a Gryffindor he bet that damn sword would have appeared. Surely that would have broken the damn book.

_ ‘Use my fang _ .’  The basilisk instructs, slithering up.

“What?”  All three exclaim for different reasons.  

‘ _ My fang will destroy it _ .’  She’s right, but Draco still hesitates.  Surely taking the fang will hurt, and he can’t do that to her.  

“We’re running out of time.”  Potter mutters as Draco hesitates.   _ ‘I’m sorry. _ ’  He hisses, rushing past Draco and grabbing one of the basilisks fangs.  She doesn’t struggle as he pulls it from her mouth.

“No!  Stop!”  The memory protests.  He can do nothing but watch as Potter stabs the fang into the journal.  Once, twice, three times. The memory vanishes with lots of light and screaming.  The Weasley girl gasps as life floods back into her.

“Ginny.”  Potter breathes, the relief obvious in his tone.

“Harry?”  Weasley says, eyes focusing on him first.  “Oh Harry, it was me, but I didn’t want to do it I swear.  Riddle made m-” she cuts off as she finally notices the very large snake and Draco.  Fear consumes her, clear in her eyes as she scrambles back, and Draco tries very hard not to be bitter.  For the Basilisks sake, that is. He can’t blame her for fearing him.

“Ginny it’s fine, you’re okay.”  Harry assures.

“B-but that’s, that’s the basilisk.  It, it,” she can’t finish her sentence, too busy being terrified.

“ _ She _ saved your life.”  Draco says firmly, glaring.  “The memory was the one making her do all those horrible things.  She’s no guiltier than you.” 

“What?”  Weasley turns to Potter, wanting his assurance.  Draco bristles again but Potter just smiles.

“It’s true.”  He says. “Without the basilisk, we wouldn’t’ve been able to stop Riddle.”

‘ _ My name is Theophania, Tiffany for short. _ ’  The basilisk hisses, though sounding more amused than annoyed.

“Without  _ Tiffany. _ ”  Potter corrects, acting very different from when he met Eris.

“But what about Malfoy?”  Weasley asks, whispering though she’s still more than loud enough for Draco to hear.

“He saved both our lives.”  Potter says. “No, seriously.”  He adds, grinning at Weasley’s face.

“Yes, I was very amazing and bluh bluh bluh.”  Draco brushes to the side. “ _ No one  _ can hear about this.”  He says firmly.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to ruin your reputation.”  Potter says, rolling his eyes teasingly.

“I am serious Potter.  If my father hears about this I am dead.”  Draco snaps.

“You mean your father won’t hear about this?”  Weasley asks, clearly less in shock than Draco had thought.  Both immediately start laughing at her little joke.

“This isn’t a joke or an exaggeration.  He will  _ literally _ kill me.”  Something in his tone must convince them, because both sober up.

“We won’t tell anyone.”  Potter assures.

“Yeah, don’t worry.”  Weasley adds. 

“Good.”  Draco huffs, though he isn’t sure he can trust them.  “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to look after Tiffany’s tooth.”  As he says it a cry feels the chamber.

“Fawkes!”  Harry announces the phoenix as it files towards them.  

‘ _ Hello songbird.’   _ Tiffany greets as he lands on Draco’s shoulder.  He starts crying onto her tooth and instantly the swelling and bleeding is gone.  ‘ _ Thank you _ .’  Fawkes squeaks in response but Draco can’t understand it.  Even if he could, he’s distracted trying not to freak out because  _ there is a phoenix on his shoulder _ .  

“Of course, phoenix tears can heal.”  Potter grins. “Thank you.”

‘ _ Fawkes will be able to take you out of the chamber. _ ’  Tiffany relays.  

“I’ll find my own way out.”  Draco says.

“Alright.”  Potter says.  “Ginny, go on ahead.  I’ll be right behind you.”  Weasley hesitates a moment before nodding.

“Uh, thank you Malfoy.  And Tiffany.” She mutters before quickly rushing off.

“What is it?”  Draco demands.

“Well I wanted to thank you.”  Potter says. “And I wanted you to meet me in the room of requirement tomorrow, after class.”

“What?”  Darco frowns.

“The room of requirement, one of the cas-” Draco cut him off quickly.

“I know what the room of requirement is.”  He snaps. “But why?”

“I just, wanted to talk.”  Potter shrugs. “Please?” Draco should say no.  He should go back to his normal life and pretend this entire year never happened, maybe no one would find out and nothing would come of it.

But he didn’t want to go back to his normal life.  He wanted to try something new. Talking to Potter... well that would definitely be new.

“Alright fine.”  He said dismissively.  “Tomorrow after class.”  

“I’ll see you then.”  Potter grins. “Bye Draco, bye Eris, bye Tiffany.”  

_ ‘Bye! _ ’  Eris calls out as Tiffany hisses her own farewells.  Draco says nothing. ‘ _ I like him. _ ’  Eris grins in her snakish way.  Draco sighs and ignores her.

‘ _ I don’t have any time right now, and I suppose tomorrow I am busy, but I will visit.’   _ He tells Tiffany.  ‘ _ I’ll bring something to clean your scales, and some fresh food, and start doing something about this mess _ .’  

‘ _ Thank you _ .’  She says, brushing her head against him.  Draco smiles and scratches under her chin.  Then he races off to sneak back into the Slytherin dorms.  Thankfully, Tiffany shows him an entrance into the tunnel he usually sneaks out from.

* * *

Draco wastes more time than he should wondering the halls of Hogwarts the next day.  He sees the room of requirement many times, just out the corner of his eye, but then he just keeps walking.  Sure, yesterday he was totally prepared to just talk to Potter. But that was yesterday. Today… today he’s not so confident.

‘ _ Draco _ .’  Eris whines when the fourth time he ignores the door.  

“I know, I know.”  Draco sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  He’s being ridiculous. The next time he sees the door he forces himself to stop, and he forces himself to turn to it, and walk up to it, and open it, and-

And this was a horrible idea, he thinks he’s instantly assaulted by the Weasley twins.  

Technically, what they’re doing is hugging him but with the way Draco tenses it might as well be a chokehold.  More confusing than the hug is what they’re saying.

“Thank you.”  One says.

“You saved our sister.”  The other continues. Draco looks beyond them and finds a very sheepish looking Potter.

“You told them.”  He accuses, glaring.  The twins finally let him go, but they don’t pull back fair.

“I had to.  But I didn’t tell anyone else though, not even Ron or Millicent.”  Potter assures.

“But we’ll have to tell Millicent.”  The twin to the right says.

“She’ll get rather suspicious if we don’t.”  The other finishes. Draco’s blood runs cold.

“No.”  He protests.  “No one else can find out.  Too many people know already.  You don’t understand, if the deatheaters hear any of this-”  The left twin cuts him off.

“Draco, you saved our sister, not to mention Harry, and bloody everyone else really.”  He says. “We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” 

Draco doesn’t mean to start crying.  He really doesn’t. It’s just… it’s just he accepted he was alone the second he rushed off to help Harry.  Hell, he’d accepted he was alone the second he started working against the Heir of Slytherin. Draco had known no one would stand with him if the deatheaters discovered his  treachery , not even his parents.

And here the Weasley’s, of all people, were saying they would.

They didn’t mock him for crying, simply lead him to a chair and gave him tissues the room had magically spawned.  Rather than bug him, they started discussing where the tissues had come from.

“They have to be Dumbledore’s.”  Harry says. “I mean, look at the box.  Only Dumbledore would have a box covered in cartoon cat faces.”

“No, they’re Professor Mcgonagall’s.”  The twin to the left, Fred he was pretty sure, claims.  “She can literally turn into a cat, of course she would have a cat-themed tissue box.”

“You’re both wrong.”  The other twin, George probably, argues.  “Flinch secretly has a softer side and this box of tissues is the proof.”  They get increasingly more ridiculous as they give Draco a moment. Eventually the conversation gets to be too much and Draco couldn’t help but burst out laughing.  It makes the three, who’ve never heard him genuinely laugh, freeze.

“You’re all wrong.”  Draco says, wiping the last of his tears.  “The box belongs to Snape.”

“Snape would never have a box of tissues covered in cats.”  Harry frowns.

“Professor Mcgonagall gave them to him as a gag gift at the start of the year.  He has a cat covered mug too.” Draco grins.

“How do you know that?”  The twins, speaking in unison, ask.  Draco hesitates to answer, because it’s sort of a secret.  But then, what don’t the twins and Harry know at this point?  Surely he can trust them with this.

“He’s my godfather.”  He shrugs, trying to brush it off.  The twins grin wide and start grilling him with questions with Draco tries to avoid answering properly.  When they realize he’s strictly loyal to his godfather, the conversation shifts to other stuff. Getting to know each other stuff.  And though they laugh and tease, Draco has never felt less pressured or judged in his life.

It’s nice.

Nice enough that, the next day, he doesn’t hesitate to enter the room of requirement. 


	4. Blaise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaise was surprisingly fun to write. Like I just love this boy.

Draco’s not being subtle.  

Okay, that’s not actually true.  He’s actually being incredibly subtle, but nothing gets by Blaise.  Not even the fact Draco’s taken an extra interest in the newspaper lately.

“Thinking of taking up paper mache?”  He teases one day while Draco glares at the paper.  He looks like he wants to tear it up. Or at least tear up the manic picture of Sirius Black on the front page.

“Oh shut up.”  Draco snaps, throwing the paper aside.

“I didn’t take you for a the gossiping type.  Thought that was Pansy.” Blaise does not shut up, and at this point Draco really shouldn’t expect him too.

“I’m not reading for the gossip.”  Draco claims. “I just don’t understand why they haven’t caught the guy already.  They have dementors on every damn corner, aren’t those things meant to be competent?”

“Well he’s a deatheater, isn’t he?  Probably knows a few tricks.” Balise points out.  

“I don’t know he is a deatheater.  Dad’s never confirmed it.” Draco huffs.  It’s become a game of sorts, acting like they both don’t know Draco is anything but an aspiring deatheater himself.  “And even if he is, he’s clearly too far gone to be of any use. All he’s doing is causing us hassle.”

“Causing Potter hassle, you mean.”  Blaise smirks.

“That isn’t what I said.”  Draco snaps. “I’m going to go find Pansy, perhaps she’ll have my side on this.”

“Sure she will.”  Blaise chuckles. He isn’t even surprised when Pansy stops by, asking where Draco is.

* * *

Blaise watches Draco with a frown.  They’ve paired up for potions but Draco, for the first time ever, has chosen to sit in the back.  He’s staring at Potter a little more obviously then normal, worried eyes framed with deep bags. This had been funny a week ago, but it’s less funny when Draco almost blows them up because he stirs the cauldron too many times.

How’s Blaise supposed to fix this?  Draco’s clearly stressed over Potter’s well-being, and rightfully so with Black drawing nearer each day.  There’s nothing Blaise can do to fix that. 

Maybe it was time to take drastic measures.

“Mr Zabini.”  Snape addresses him once everyone else has left.  “Was there something you needed?”

“I was just wondering,” Blaise starts, keeping his tone light, “you went to school with this Sirius Black fellow, right?”

“Unfortunately, I did.”  Snape nods, frowning. “As well as the rest of his siblings, and everybody else our age.”

“Did you ever suspect anything?”  Blaise asks. He watches the way Snape tenses, just for a second, before acting like nothing happened.  There’s a wriggling tattoo on Snape’s arm, Blaise knows that, and he knows Snape knows he knows that. 

“He’s always had a cruel streak.”  Snape eventually says. “But no, I never thought he’d have done such a thing.”  Blaise’s next words die in his throat. He hadn’t been expecting that. As far as he knows, the deatheaters have never claimed Black wasn’t one of their own, even if they’ve never outright said it.  Blaise had planned to turn this conversation to feeling nervous about having a killer so nearby, not to doubt that Black was one. “If that was all Mr Zabini.” Snape dismisses.

“That was it.”  Blaise claims. “Thanks professor.”  

So, Blaise thinks, Black might not be the killer everyone thinks he is.  But then why is he on his way to Hogwarts? Perhaps to seek Dumbledore’s help?  No, that seems unlikely. Did he want revenge? Payback on Potter for the years imprisoned?  That’s possible. And put him right back to square one. 

He’ll have to get more information before he tells Draco anything.  But who could he ask? His mother will perhaps know something, but he doesn’t want her asking why he's so interested.  Snape surely knows more, but Blaise knows the professor has said all he’s going to. The other teachers will be little help, even if they know anything they wouldn’t say anything.

Except…

Of course, Hagrid.  The old half-giant is well known for his chattermouth.  He has Care of Magical Creatures with the man tomorrow, after that it should be easy to get the caretaker talking.

 

“The both of you become awfully boring lately.”  Pansy complains at dinner, looking from Draco’s sour expression to Blaise’s thoughtful one.  “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.”  Draco huffs.  “Maybe I’m just growing sick of your voice.  This Black stuff is old news, can’t you find anything new to talk about?”

“Oh please, you have every article on Black under your pillow.”  Pansy rolls his eyes. “You’re obsessed.” 

“Excuse me for wanting to track the convicted murderer that’s nearing our school.”  Draco scoffs. “Doesn’t mean I want to listen to you yap on about him all bloody day.”

“Mummy, daddy stop fighting.”  Blaise butts in before the argument can get any worse.  Beneath the table Draco’s hands are clenched in tight fists, above the table people are starting to stare.  Soon enough Draco’s double life is going to explode in Pansy’s face and ruin their little triad, but Blaise would rather it not happen in front of everyone.

“Oh shove off.”  Draco glares. “I’m not hungry.”  He storms from the table. Blaise catches Potter watching him leave, and then making soft excuses to follow.  Not that any of his friends question him of course.

“What a prat.”  Pansy huffs.

“Well what were you expecting?”  Blaise rolls his eyes. “You were trying to get a raise out of him.”

“It’s not my fault he hardly talks to me unless he’s snapping.”  Pansy claims.

“Actually I’m pretty sure that’s your fault.”  Blaise points out.

“Who’s side are you on?!”  Pansy snaps.

“No ones.”  Blaises sighs.  Always stuck in the middle, trying to cling to this little friendship even as Draco pulls away to his new friends and Pansy gets caught up in the deatheaters.  What a mess this has all become. “How about after dinner we go force some first years to lose gobstones, that always cheers you up.” He suggests.

“I suppose…”  Pansy agrees. 

* * *

“Favouritism.”  Crabbe, or was it Goyle, fake coughs as Harry rides off on Buckbeak.

“You could have volunteered.”  Granger reminds, glaring behind him.  

“I wish you had.”  Bulstrode smirks from beside her.  “Class would be much more interesting if the thing had beaten you to death.”  

“Buckbeak won’t beat nobody to death.”  Hagrid assures loudly. “Now, if you ain’t respectful he might break a bone or three, but that’s your own fault.”

“I can’t believe they let this idiot teach a class.”  Pansy huffs. “He couldn’t even pass his classes.”

“Wasn’t he expelled on suspect of murder?”  Blaise hums. “Not bad grades?”

“Oh same thing.”  Pansy brushes him off.  “Draco, you going to try to ride the beast?”

“What?”  Draco recoils at the idea.  “God no. I’ll stick to flying on a broom thanks.”

“Potter could do it, can’t be too hard.”  Pansy says.

“For all we know Potter’s getting bucked off and falling into the forbidden forest right now.”  Draco claims. A few minutes later, Buckbeak settles back onto the ground with one Harry Potter still clearly on his back.

“Shame.”  Pansy sighs. 

“That was awesome.”  Potter is grinning ear to ear as he gets off the hippogriff.  He gives Buckbeak an affectionate pat on the head and then rejoins his friends.  

“Alright, we’re gonna take this one at a time so I can make sure none of ya get trampled.”  Hagrid announces. “You’ll get ta meet the rest of the heard later. Who’s next?” 

“Certainly not me.”  Draco shivers. Blaise and Pansy stay back with him as they watch the students approach Buckbeak one by one.  He refuses Bulstrode and Granger, much to Pansy’s amusement, but happily takes Ron around the school.

“Notin’ ta worry about.”  Hagrid assures the students Buckbeak ignores.  “Buckbeak just doesn’t connect with ya, I’m sure one of the other hippogriffs will.”  

“I doubt it.”  Pansy mutters. “I mean what kind of proud creature would let a troll and a hag ride it.”  She mocks. Blaise manages a chuckle but Draco ignores the comment. He does crack a smile when it’s Crabbe and Goyle’s torn.  If not for Hagrid’s close attention both would have broken an arm.

“Ya hav’ta be respectful.”  Hagrid scolds them both. 

“I don’t think they know the meaning of the word.”  Blaise comments.

“I don’t think they know the meaning of most words.”  Pansy adds. Draco chuckles.

“That everyone?”  Hagrid asks, looking around the group.  The three of them said nothing, hoping he’d think they’d already gone.  No such luck. “Alright Malfoy, you’re up.” He says.

“What?  Me?” Draco panics.  “I’m perfectly content on the ground, thank you very much.”

“Big shocker.  Malfoy’s a chicken.”  Granger mocks from the other side of the class.  

“I bet he knows Buckbeak wouldn’t go near him.”  Ron adds. “Hell, if I were Buckbeak I won’t even wait for the bow.  Just knock that smug look off his stupid face.” 

“That’s enough.”  Hagrid scolds the two.  “I expect better from you two.  Now come on Malfoy, he wouldn’t bite.”

“But he might trample.”  Draco mutters under his breath.  Still he forces himself to step up to the hippogriff.

“Now first you gotta bow.”  Hagrid instructs.

“I was listening to the lecture. “ Draco cuts him off with a quick glare.  His nervous kind of glare. Buckbeak huffs at Draco’s tone but doesn’t start charging.  Swallowing, Draco bows to Buckbeak. 

“It’s going to kill him.”  Pansy mutters, sounding a bit more worried than she probably means too.  But rather than attack him, Buckbeak bows back. Draco stares a moment. Out the corner of his eye, Blaise see’s Potter moving his arm slightly.  Draco follows his guide, lifting his hand up for Buckbeak who steps closer, butting his head against Draco’s hand.

“I don’t bloody believe it.”  Ron comments. Draco doesn’t look like he does either, letting out a relieved laugh as he pats Buckbeak.

“Oh shoot, we aint got much time left.”  Hagrid notices. “Best speed this along.”  Then, just like he did for most of the students, he lifts Draco up and onto Buckbeaks back.  “You best hang on.”

“He’s not kidding.”  Potter smirks. 

“He looks utterly terrified.”  Pansy chuckles, her worry turning to amusement as Buckbeak takes to the skies and Draco’s protests get further and further away.

When Buckbeak finally lands, Draco all but launches himself from him.  Much to everyone’s amusement.

“Have fun?”  Blaise smirks.

“I much prefer snakes.”  Draco huffs. 

“You look like you’re about to fall over.”  Pansy teases. Draco just glares. 

On her turn, Buckbeak does nothing.  On Blaise’s turn Buckbeak comes up to him but, when Hagrid puts Blaise on his back, he starts protesting.  

“Aint never seen that happen before.”  Hagrid comments, frowning as he quickly sets Blaise back on the ground.  

“The beasts just crazy.”  Goyle, or is it Crabbe, mutters.  

“Aint no beasts that are crazy, just misunderstood.”  Hagrid says. “Alright, that’s all we got time for today class.  Ya’ll head back up to the castle. Zabini, you can help me with clean-up since you were the last ‘ere.”  

Well, that worked out better than expected.

Pansy and Draco offer him variants of ‘you poor soul’ and ‘well see you later’ as they leave.  Blaise makes sure to act like this isn’t at all what he wanted to be doing. 

It’s only once they’ve gathered Hagrid’s gear and are walking back to his hut that Blaise starts asking questions.

“Hey Hagrid,” he starts in an innocent tone, “is it true you knew Sirius Black when he was a student?”

“Aye.”  Hagrid nods.  “Not a staff member that didn’t, I’d say.  He and his friends were always gettin’ up ta mischief they was.  Horrible what he did, ta his best friend no less.”

“So he really was school friends with the Potters?”  Blaise presses.

“More than friends, they were practically brothers they were.  Professor Lupin was close to them too, and Peter. Never saw ‘em without the other.  Till they got older that is, James started spendin’ more time with Lily and Remus was always studying.  Must of been then that Sirius started spendin’ time with the deatheaters.” 

“What about Peter Pettigrew?  What’d he start doing?” Blaise asks.  They’re inside the shack now, Hagrid’s things settled on his table.  

“Not much of anything, I don’t think.  Peter was a lost puppy without the James and Sirius.  Ya know, when I heard rumours of a traitor, my money was on him.  Shy kid, happy to follow ya know, I’d have bet the deatheaters got ta him.  Never occured to me it could be Sirius. Don’t think it ever occured to James and Lily neither, they made ‘im Harry’s godfather they did.”  Hagrid seems to realize what he said, quickly shaking himself from his thoughts. “I shouldn’t’a said that. Old ghosts, those are, better not to bring them up.  You oughtta be gettin’ ta class. Thanks for the help, ten points to Slytherin.” He says in a rush, shooing Blaise from the hut. Blaise goes without hassle, he has what he wanted.

* * *

When Draco gets up to leave dinner, early as usual, Blaise gets up to join him.

“I’m not that hungry tonight.”  He explains. For a moment Draco looks annoyed, likely because he planned to sneak off, but he quickly pushes that away.

“Have fun explaining that to the house elves when you get up for a midnight snack.”  He says.

“I’ll tell them you sent me.”  Blaise assures.

“Don’t you dare.”  Draco warns. Once they’re halfway to the dorms, where no one’s going to accidently overhear them, Blaise breaks the silence.

“You know you shouldn’t be so worried about Black.”  He hums. Draco frowns.

“Why?”  He prompts cautiously.

“I don’t think he was the one that got the Potter’s killed.”  Blaise says.

“How could you possibly know that?”  Draco’s frown deepens, Blaise just smirks.

“I have my sources.”  He says. “Pettigrew’s the one that got them killed, and Black took care of him.”  At least, that's what Blaise had concluded. 

“But if Black’s not here to finish the job, what do you suppose he’s here for?”  Draco asks. 

“I’d bet he’s checking in on his godson.”  Blaise shrugs, smugly.

“Would you just say something plainly for once Blaise?”  Draco huffs, glaring darker when Blaise just chuckles.

“Where’s the fun in that?”  He teases. “But since you’re so insistent, Potter is Black’s godson.  Go have fun doing whatever you do when you sneak away Draco, I think my appetites just returned.”  Blaise turns back to the dinning hall, leaving Draco gaping behind him.

“I see you’re back.”  Pansy comments when Blaise retakes his seat.  

“I simply had something to discuss with Draco.”  Blaise brushes the question off. “Didn’t want a thousand listeners.”

“What was it?”  Pansy prompts.

“My undying love for him, obviously.”  Blaise claims, taking another helping of potatoes.

* * *

Draco wastes no time in telling the Weasley’s what Blaise told him.  Blaise knows this because the Weasley’s waste no time in cornering him the next morning.

“It’s much too early for the both of you.”  Blaise says, trying duck past them. No such luck.

“What was the name of the man you said got Harry’s parents killed?”  The left twin demands.

“Pardon?”  Blaise frowns, only just now giving the two a proper look.  They appear almost… panicked. 

“The man that got the Potters killed.”  The right twin repeats. “What was his name?”

“Peter Pettigrew?”  Blaise answers. “The one that Sirus killed.”  The twins share a look then grab his arm. “Hey!  We have breakfast.” Blaise complains as he’s dragged along.

“This is more important.”  The twins say in unison. They drag him around a corner and through a door that definitely hadn’t been there last time Blaise went down this hall.

“What the hell?!”  Blaise demands. “If this is some sort of prank I will hex the both of you into next week.”  He threatens. The twins eye each other and then the left one pulls a piece of paper from his robes.

“You can't tell anyone about this.”  Left twin warns. 

“What's there to say about a blank piece of paper?”  Blaise frowns. Its much too early for this.

“Just wait.”  Right twin rolls his eyes.  “George, if you could.”

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”  George says, pressing his wand to the paper.  It doesn't remain blank for long.

“What is that?”  Blaise asks, annoyance turning to fasinacation as the twins open it up.

“A map of the entire school.”  Fred answers.

“Most of it, anyway.”  George adds. “Made by these blocks.”  He gestures to the list of names on the front.  Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Blaise frowns, what kind of names are those?

“It shows absolutely everyone in the castle.”  Fred says. They finish unfolding the thing and Blaise sees what they mean.  Countless footsteps move about the map, each labelled in neat handwriting.

“Most of everyone, anyway.”  George says. “That's what we wanted to talk to you about.”

“There's someone missing.”  Neither twin continues so Blaise looks to the map and it's names.  

“Us?”  He guesses, since they certainly aren't on the map.  

“Ofcourse  _ we're _ missing.  The Room of Requirement isn't in the map.”  Fred says, as though that's meant to make any sense to Blaise.  Frustration returning, but deciding not to question it, Blaise tries again.

“Professor Lupin?”  He guesses, noticing there's no trace of the man.

“Well you aren't wrong.”  George says. 

“And you're certainly getting closer.”  Fred adds. 

“Fine, whose missing?”  Blaise groans, giving up trying to figure it out himself.  There were hundreds of people in the castle, nevermind the clearly listed pets.

“Scabbers!”  The twins reveal.

“Who?”  Blaise asks. His fascination has most certainly faded back in annoyance.

“Ron's rat.”  George says, gesturing to where Ron is walking towards the Great Hall with several other Gryffindors.  

“He used to Percy's.”  Fred adds.

“Okay, so your brother's pet rat doesn't show up on your stupid map.”  Blaise says, running a hand through his hair. “What does that matter?”

“Well we never thought it was a big deal, maybe it was just because he was a rat.  They are rather small.” Fred starts.

“But other rats appear on the map, so long as they're pets and have been properly named.”  George says.

“And then this year we found Professor Lupin doesn't show up on the map either.”  Fred continues. “So we started asking around.”

“Subtly of course, we can be rather inconspicuous when we want to be.”  George adds.

“And we found out that Professor Lupin's nickname in school used to be Moony.”  Fred says.

“One of the map makers.”  Blaise continues for them.

“Exactly!”  Fred and George say together.

“And if the map was meant for trouble,” George starts.

“Which it most certainly is.”  Fred confirms.

“Any smart troublemaker would keep their name off of it.”  George says.

“So you're thinking this Scabbers is one of the map makers?”  Blaise says. 

“We're thinking Scabbers is Pettigrew.”  Fred confirms. “He's even missing the right toe.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”  Blaise asks.

“We think you can help us get him.”  Fred says. 

“What?”  Blaise frowns.

“Well not in the physical sense.”  George says. “We can do that.”

“Much less suspiciously too.”  Fred agrees.

“But we were hoping you could build a case.”  George explains.

“A case?  For what?”  Blaise frowns.

“Sirius.”  George answers.  “If he really is innocent, we'll have to prove it.”

“Why would I make a case for some Black?  How do you know I'll even do a good job? Wouldn't Granger be a better choice?” 

“Well you're the one that figured it out in the first place.”  Fred points out. “Besides, Hermione doesn't have the resources you do.  Or the cunning to make them seem legitimate.”

“And we think you'll do it because it'll make Harry happy, which means it'll make Draco happy.”  George adds. Blaise opens his mouth to protest, mostly because he's mad they saw through him. He's sure not even Draco has noticed he actually cares.  Certainly Pansy hasn't.

“I'm not promising anything.”  He says instead. “But I'll see what I can find.”

* * *

It's too easy to prove Black innocent.  Or at least to prove he might not be guilty.  Theres just no solid evidence he _ is _ guilty.  From the reports Blaise can find, Dumbledore told the council Black was the Potter's secret keeper and that was that.  He didn't even get a trial.

Which actually makes the appeal much easier to write.  Blaise outlines the first injustice in the first few pages, and then goes on to show the lack of hard evidence.  By the time Black has been recaptured, Blaise has more than enough evidence to get him a trial. And even more to cast suspicion on Pettigrew.

But he doesn't have anything concrete to free Black.  Especially when the Weasley's report that Pettigrew got away.

Which is why he's walking through the castle halls long after curfew, with his wand and two glass vials.  Blaise moves quickly, a believable cover story already memorised just in case he gets caught. 

“Quickly, someone's coming.”  It’s not too surprising to hear Potter's voice ahead.  Blaise had heard him and Draco sneaking out shortly before he had.

“It's just me.”  He calls, loud enough for them to hear but not too loud.  It only takes a few more steps to reach them. Sirius is patting Buckbeak, clearly preparing to mount the hippogriff.

“Blaise?”  Draco frowns, wand ready but not raised.  Yet.

“What are you doing here?”  Potter asks.

“Picking a side.”  Blaise sighs. “I have a plan to get your actual freedom.  Although it does involve not escaping right now.” The three share a look and Draco shrugs.

“I trust him.”  Draco says. Potter hesitates another moment before looking to Blaise.

“What is it?”  He asks. Blaise explains the documents in his chest, and the reason for the vials in his pockets.

“You think you could really clear my name?”  Black's the first to speak, looking like a man who'd given up hope it real freedom.

“My paperwork can.  Though I suggest the twins hand it in.”  Blaise assures. “And I'll need those memories.”  

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”  Potter offers when Black hesitates. “We’ll figure something out.”

“No, it makes sense.”  Black sighs, stepping away from Buckbeak.  “You need the memory of Peter becoming the secret keeper, right?”

“And a memory of him transforming into a rat.”  Blaise says. Black nods. He pulls the memories from his mind with some strain, placing one into each of the veils Blaise brought.

“How long will it take?”  Potter asks.

“That depends on how much of a fuss we make.”  Blaise says. “You know Draco, I’m sure your parents will throw quite the tantrum if a dangerous criminal like Black is stuck at Hogwarts too long.”  He smirks.

“Well, what a shame it’d be if the lock was charmed not to open before a verdict is reached.”  Draco adds after a moment, clearly catching up.

“I’ve heard that’s quite a problem with old castles.  Ancient charms suddenly recasting themselves.” Blaise nods.  “There’s probably a book on it in the restricted section.”

“Good thing students like us can’t go there without permission.”  Potter grins as he gets the picture, picking up his invisibility cloak.

“Slytherins.”  Black shakes his head.  

* * *

“I’m going for a walk.”  Draco announces a few days later, placing down the paper announcing Sirius Black as a freed man.  Terrible what happened to him, the paper reports before it boasts what a good godfather he is, escaping Azkaban just to make sure his godson was safe.  It’s funny how quickly the media can change their tone, but then Blaise had been expecting that.

“Coming Blaise?”  Draco asks. Blaise looks up from his charms book to see Draco’s expectant expression.  He’s not going for a walk, they both know that. He’s never bothered to invite Blaise before.  But then, he’s probably never thought Blaise would say yes. 

He wasn’t wrong.  Being friends with the Weasley’s and Potter is drawing a clear line in the sand.  Moreover, a clear line between himself and Pansy.

But then, helping save Black was a line just as deep, and just because no one saw him draw it doesn’t mean he didn’t.  Was it even worth playing the middle ground anymore? He could still have the best of both worlds, at least for a time.  And when that time was up, he’d still have Draco. Maybe even a few extras too.

“Sure.”  Blaise decides, standing and telling himself his hands aren’t shaking.  “Later Pansy.” 

“Whatever.  Just don’t come crying to me when you fail the next exam.”  Pansy says. 

They find the Room of Requirement just around the corner.  

“It changed.”  Blaise comments.  Last time he was hear the room was mostly empty, now it looks like a common room. 

“It changes depending on what’s needed.”  Draco explains.

“And we always need a secret hangout.”  One of the twins calls from the couch. “Isn’t that right Fred?”

“Exactly George.”  Fred grins right back.  

“You’re not fooling anyone.”  Bulstrode huffs. She’s sitting on the floor looking through her notes, which Blaise has seen her writing with Hermione during class.  

“I don’t know.”  George says. “Blaise looks like he buys it.”

“They mixed up their names.”  Potter calls. “That’s actually Fred, and that’s actually George.”  

“You’re no fun Harry.”  George, not Fred apparently, complains.

“Why else would we make new friends except to mess with them?”  Fred adds.

“You’ll get used to them.”  Draco sighs. Later, sitting on one of the chairs and actually laughing, Blaise agrees.  He also thinks his posture will suffer from all this feeling relaxed, but maybe that’s not a bad thing.


	5. Pansy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pansy was also surprisingly fun to write.  
> It was also just fun to have all the Slytherins start in a similar place, and end in a similar place, but get there in their own ways.

When did things start going to hell?

Things were perfect back in First Year.  She was one of the most popular first years in Slytherin, with Draco on one arm and Blaise the other.  People feared them, older classmates congratulated their cruelty, and everything was going exactly as she planned.

So how is it she sits in the common room alone more often than not now?  

The house gossip is that Blaise and Draco are dating, and they’re constantly going off to snog in some long forgotten corridor.  Juicy gossip, sure, but complete bullshit. Blaise has said many times that Draco isn't his type. More importantly, their parents would kill them for such a ridiculous match.  There’s no gain to their marriage, expect perhaps money if Blaise follows his mother’s footsteps. Pansy likes to think Blaise is better than that. 

Still, they are sneaking off together.  She’s being shoved to the side. And Pansy can’t figure out why.

“Maybe you aren’t enough anymore.”  She mutters to herself in the middle of the night, with her curtains charmed to be soundproof against even Bulstrode’s snoring.  “Wasn’t I loyal enough? Didn’t I know enough?” She wonders. “It certainly makes sense for us to be friends. Why isn’t that enough?”

If her parents find out she’s falling out with Draco there’ll be hell to pay.  He’s to be the Dark Lord’s heir, that’s what they say, and it’s in her best interests to remain at his side.  She thought it had been in his best interests to stay with her, too. Had something changed? Had their parents had some fight she hadn’t been told about?  

Maybe if they told her she could fix it.  She doesn’t want to disappoint her parents.

She doesn’t want to lose her friends.

* * *

“There you two are.”  Pansy greets as she spots Blaise and Draco sitting by the lake.  She hasn’t seen them in days, not outside class and meals and those barely count.

“Go away Pansy, I’m not in the mood to deal with your bitching.”  Draco huffs. 

“What?”  Pansy frowns.  “I don’t bitch.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?  All you do is go on about how Potter is a personal insult to your existence.”  Draco claims.

“Excuse me for thinking this is utterly ridiculous.  He clearly broke the goblet’s rules, and he wasn’t even subtle about it.  It’s ridiculous that no one’s even thought to punish him.” Pansy bristles.  She thought Draco hated Potter, why didn’t he want to complain with her about the clear favouritism?

“From the sounds of it, the Triwizard Tournament’ll be punishment enough.”  Blaise mumbles. 

“From the sounds of it, the Triwizard Tournament is a bloody trap.”  Draco snaps. “Harry didn’t put his name in the damn goblet, so clearly something else is going on here.  But no one’s even questioning it!” 

“Since when did you care so much about Potter?”  Pansy frowns. She tries not to flinch as Draco stands up, glare turned to her.  

“Since I grew a conscience.”  Draco spits. “You know, several years ago?  Maybe if you gave a damn about anyone but yourself you’d have caught on.”  Before she can even think of a reply, Draco storms off.

“Draco!”  Blaise calls after him, frowning and standing himself.  “You bloody twat.” He huffs. “Excuse him Pansy, he’s stressed.”

“Over Potter?”  Is the first think Pansy can manage to say.  What the hell is going on?

“Yes.”  Blaise says.  “If you care about either of us, or your own safety, I’d suggest you don’t tell anyone.”  He leaves just as quickly as Draco. Leaving Pansy to stare at the lake and wonder. 

When did everything go to hell?

* * *

Draco is a bloodtraitor.  That much is clear, once Pansy gets over her surprise.  He's thrown his lot in with Potter, with the mudbloods and the muggles.  And Blaise has sided with him.

When did that happen?  Had she really not noticed?

No.  She'd noticed.  She's just… she'd ignored all the signs.  If the boys were bloodtraitors then the were her enemies, and Pansy couldn't admit that to herself.

Well there's no denying it now.  The boys are her enemies. When the Dark Lord returns, they'll stand on opposite sides of the battle.  

Pansy should tell someone, everyone.  Maybe she could use this to her advantage, take Draco's place as Heir Apparent.

But if she does that, they'll die.  Pansy knows what the Deatheaters do to traitors. Maybe Blaise will get off, he was never technically with them, but Draco… Pansy doesn't want to imagine the fate that awaits him.  Does he not realize how stupid he's being? His own father would torture him for betraying them.

But of course he understands.  Draco probably understands better than she does.

Then why?  Why would Draco turn against everything he’s ever known?

Pansy just doesn't understand.

* * *

Blaise and Draco don't even look at her anymore.  They sit on the opposite end of the dining table, go no where near her in the halls, and refuse to work with her in class.

At least the rumour mill is enjoying their broken triad.  Pansy has heard everything from her snogging Potter to Draco's parents arranging their marriage to Pansy giving them the wrong answers on a charms test.

All of its ridiculous.  The only person Potter wants to snog right now is Diggory, their parents have always said marriage was on the table, and as if any of them would chest on a charms test.  They aren't idiot Gyrfindors. She'd chew out the gossipers if only the truth wasn't worse.

Which is ridiculous, because she should just _ tell _ everyone.  A real deatheater would have told everyone.  Is being a bloodtraitor contagious? No,  _ she's  _ not a bloodtraitor.  She just… she just wants to know why they are.  That's it. She can't had them over before she knows what's really going on here.  Maybe they're being manipulated and she can help them see the light. Then they can type forget any of this happened and no one has to die.

Yeah, that's it.  That's why she hasn't handed them in.  And that's why she's sitting a few rows behind them, watching them watch the first of the Triwizard challenges.  Obviously.

Not that it's helping much.  They're reacting like anyone else, wincing at the constant near scraps that come with trying to steal from a dragon.  But that in itself is odd. They don't even know the Champions, why should they be so concerned? If they die, well that's what they get for being weak witches.  It's part of the entertainment.

Blaise turns, almost catches her staring, and Pansy quickly turns back to the challenge.  She tries to see what they're seeing, but as Diggory scrambles away from fire all she can manage is amusement.

The suit next to her shifts and Pansy jumps.  And turns to chew out the idiot dumb enough to sit with her, only to see is Blaise.

“Blaise?”  She prompts, frowning.  He doesn't look at her.

“Try to think of it like it's Draco out there, or me.”  He says. “Might help.”

“But it's not.”  Pansy argues.

“But it could be.”  Blaise claims.

“No, you weren't old enough to out your name in the goblet.”  She points out.

“Pansy, you're never going to get this if you don't change the way you think.  I'm trying to help.” Blaise sighs. 

“Why do _ I _ have to change?”  Pansy huffs, growing defensive.  Why wasn't she enough as she was?  “You're the one making a mistake. I thought you were smart enough to pick the winning side Blaise.”

“I don't know if I picked the winning side.”  Blaise admits. “But I picked the _ right _ one, and that's more important.”  Pansy frowns deeper, squinting at Blaise.  Since when was anything more important than winning?  

“Is being right more important than me?”  Pansy scoffs, trying to hide the hurt beneath anger.  

“It's not about you Pansy, or about  _ being _ right.  It's about  _ doing _ right.  We don't want to fight you, when it comes to that.  But we're not going to side with a bunch of racist murderers.”  He tries to explain. “Just think about it. If it were me, or Draco, or someone you cared about, could you sit here and laugh?”  Blaise doesn't wait for an answer, heading back to his seat with Draco. 

Pansy turns back to the challenge and tries to imagine it's Blaise in there, battling a dragon.  That’s not something she wants to imagine, she decides. 

* * *

On some level, Pansy had hoped this would all blow over by the Yule Ball.  Her plan had always been to go with Draco, while Blaise charmed whoever took his fancy.

It doesn’t blow over.  

When the Yule Ball begins, Pansy arrives dateless.  No one asked her. Well, Crabbe and Goyle had asked her but even alone she has  _ some _ standards. Blaise arrives alone too, talking up how he’s riding this one solo.  Which immediately causes a ripple of conversation about his and Draco’s ‘status’.  How anyone can still think they’re dating Pansy doesn’t understand. The rumour mill only gets louder when Draco arrives with Victor Krum.

Krum?  Pansy frowns at the pair.  Since when did Draco know Krum?  She wrecks her brain for anything about the two, and vaguely remains her mother complaining that that Narcissa spent more time with Krum’s mother than her.  But that had been years ago, she hadn’t heard anything about them since. Had they stayed in touch? No, surely Draco would have told her  _ that _ .  They must have only reconnected throughout the Triwizard Tournament.  Still, reconnecting didn’t seem like enough to warrant being Krum’s Yule Ball date.  

“I bet he’s trying to make Zabini jealous.”  She tries not to groan as the voice of some third-year.  How long will it take these idiots to realize Blaise and Draco aren’t dating?  

“Probably.”  Their friend agrees.  “Everyone knows Zabini is a player, I bet Malfoy’s just giving him a taste of his own medicine.”  

“Still, I can’t believe Krum invited  _ him _ .  He can do way better than Malfoy, even if they are childhood friends.”  The first continues.

“He’s got to be in on it.  There’s no way he’d invited Malfoy for real.”  Pansy decides to leave then, before she punches someone.  And not just because she hates being the last to know any gossip.

When she catches Draco staring at Potter, who’s brought Bulstrode as his date, she can’t help but remember their words.  It looks like Draco is trying to make someone jealous, but it’s not Blaise. Is that why he’s swapped sides? Because he’s gone and started crushing on Potter?

Pansy wants to believe that, but she knows a false rumour when she hears it.

* * *

When the second challenge rolls around, Pansy doesn’t plan to go.  She does though, standing on the edge of the crowd and looking for her old friends.  Blaise stands on the very edge of the platform, tapping his foot just slightly as he stares into the water.

Draco isn’t with him.

Pansy frowns and looks for Krum, he’s pacing back and further on his starting spot.  Draco isn’t with him either.

She knows it’s a long shot, but she checks Potter’s starting spot anyway.  There’s Potter, talking to the Weasley twins and Bulstrode. No Draco.

Come to think of it, she doesn’t remember seeing him at breakfast this morning.  Or dinner last night.

After several minutes trying to convince herself everything is fine, Pansy gathers her nerve and walks over to Blaise.

“Draco feeling too sick to watch?”  She prompts, as nonchalantly as possible.  

“You can just say you’re worried.”  Blaise snaps, before taking a deep breath.  “He’s missing. No one’s seen him since yesterday morning.”

“What?”  Pansy’s feels like her heart is in her throat.  Did the deatheaters figure it out? Do they know Draco’s a bloodtraitor?  “Are the teachers doing anything?” 

“Fred and George think it has something to do with the task.  Ron’s missing too, and Diggory’s girlfriend.” He explains. 

“The Weasley twins?”  Pansy frowns, nose wrinkling at the thought of the two blemishes on Slytherin’s good name.

“We’re friends with Harry, you don’t think we’re friends with the twins?”  Blaise asks. “And they’re rather good people, so watch your mouth before you say something you’ll regret.”  He adds, in the same tone he threatened her last time they stood by the lake.

“...sorry.”  Pansy says, smartly.  “It was just a surprise to hear.”  Blaise is quiet after that, likely expecting her to leave.  She should leave. But, but she just has to be sure. “So Draco should be fine though, after this task?”

“Yes.  And if he’s not, there’ll be hell to pay.”  Blaise confirms. “You know, if you cared about most people the way you do Draco, you’d get why we choose Harry.”  He adds, after a moment.

“That wasn’t why I came over here.”  Pansy frowns.

“You came over here because you still care.  And you miss us.” Blaise claims. “We miss you too.”

“Whatever.”  Pansy huffs, rather than point out they’re the ones that left her.  She doesn’t want Blaise to convince her she’s wrong.

 

Pansy finds a high spot to watch the lake from as the champions dive in.  She bites her nails waiting. Moment’s later Delacour breaks the surface, injured and panicked.  Pansy gives her no mind, Delacour doesn’t have Draco. Neither does Diggory, when he surfaces soon after.  Finally, Krum appears with a very soaked and annoyed looking Draco.

“He’s fine.”  She breaths. He’s not off being tortured.

A few minutes later Potter finally arrives, bringing the youngest Weasley boy with him.  A young girl is brought to the surface too, held by a water serpent until Potter hisses something to it.  He swims to the shore with both of them and is almost immediately embraced by Delacour. 

“It’s not my problem.”  Pansy mutters to herself as her thoughts stray to what might’ve happened, had Potter left the other girl down there.  What does she care? It’s just some random girl.

_ But _ , a Blaise-sounding voice whispers in her head,  _ what if it had been us _ ?

It would have been different, she tells herself.  

It just would have been different.

* * *

Diggory is dead.

Pansy can do nothing but stare, must students can do nothing but stare.  Cedric Diggory is dead, lying on the grass.

Potter kneels beside him, injured and silent as professors and Diggory’s father react.  He must explain, but Pansy can’t hear it from here. 

People start moving around her, rushing forwards or backing away.  Pansy stays still. She stares at Diggory’s body and all she can see is Draco, or Blaise.  Lying there without a trace of blood or even a wound. She watches Diggory’s father break down and she thinks,  _ that would be me _ . 

It’s in that moment that Blaise’s words finally click.  

When the war comes people will die, people will be hurt.  Just because she doesn’t know those people, doesn’t mean they don’t matter.  Someone else cares about them just as much as she cares for Draco and Blaise.  Someone else will kneel over their corpse and fall apart.

This is what the deatheaters will bring.

Pansy understands now, why they sided against the deatheaters.  Why they’ll never switch back.

What about her, she wonders?  The deatheaters will win, she’s been raised on that belief, and leaving them is cause for a fate worse than death.  The boys decided it was worth the risk anyway. Worth losing, worth dying, just to make sure they didn’t hurt others.

What does she think?  Pansy doesn’t know if she’s ever asked that before.  What does she think?

She thinks… she thinks maybe winning isn’t everything.  She thinks she doesn’t want to be on the side that would torture her best friend.  She doesn’t want to be on the side that would start a war.

She thinks Voldemort is back, that he killed Diggory, and she thinks that actually terrifies her.  It’s not a cause for celebration.

Her choice made, Pansy starts walking.  Not towards the body, but back towards the castle.  She starts towards the dorm, not sure where else to start searching.  

A door appearing to her left stops Pansy short.  The castle might be magic, but she’s never heard of an appearing and disappearing door.  Just stairs. Then again, it seems a good enough answer as any. Pansy pushes the door open.

“Pansy?”  Draco frowns.  He and Blaise stand on the other side of the door, standing in a room like the Slytherin common room but not.  “How did you get in here?” 

“The door just… appeared.”  Pansy admits, closing it behind her.

“It does that.”  Blaise says. “I guess you had great requirement of us?”

“The Dark Lord’s back, isn’t he?”  Pansy asks after a moment of hesitation.  “That’s what happen to Cedric.” The boys share a look.

“We think so.”  Blaise confirms.  “We’ll have to wait for Harry to confirm of course.”

“He’s telling the professors it was a monster in the maze, but he’s lying.”  Draco adds. “That’s what the garden snakes said, anyway.”

“So… so there really is a war coming.”  Pansy says.

“Probably.”  Blaise nods. “What side are you going to be on?”

“Yours.”  Pansy answers quicker than even she thought she would.  “I don’t… I just keep thinking about it being Draco. I mean, the things they’ll do to you if they find out you’re a bloodtraior… I can’t be on the side that’d do that.”  She continues, with more honesty and less confidence than she planned.

“Even if it means we’ll lose?”  Draco asks. 

“Even then.”  Pansy nods. 

“We’re not going to lose.”  Pansy jumps at the new voice, her life flashing before his eyes.  It’s only one of the Weasley twins, having entered the door that apparently moves on this side of the room too.  “Today was a bad day, but it doesn’t mean we’ll lose.”

“Cedric is dead.”  Draco reminds, choking on the word slightly.  “The deatheaters wouldn’t do something this bold if the dark lord wasn’t back.”

“That just means a fights coming.”  Weasley says. “Voldemort’s been defeated once before, by a baby no less.  We’ll win.” The younger Slytherin’s don’t look convinced but he doesn’t press.  “Come on, take a seat. Fred’s looking after Harry, and I’m sure Millicent will be here soon.  In the meantime you three look like you need some hot chocolate.” 

With a gesture from Blaise, Pansy follows the instruction.  They sit on the chairs provided, ones much more comfortable than in the real Slytherin common room, while George ducks out of the room once more.  He comes back soon after with a collection of floating mugs, sending one over to each of them.

“Aren’t you curious why I’m here?”  Pansy can’t help but ask as the mug floats before her.

“Because you just had a traumatic event and need some cheering up.”  George says, like it isn’t even a question. “Drink your hot chocolate, it’s good.”

“It is.”  Blaise confirms.  “It’s Professor Remus’ recipe.”

“Uncle Snape still swears he came up with it.”  Draco cut in. Their tones are tense, clearly seeing Cedric wasn’t any easier for them, but they’re trying.

“Well that’s a story that definitely needs explanation.”  George grins, launching in to a tale of epic hot chocolate wars.  Later, when Fred arrives with Potter and Bulstrode they don’t even raise an eyebrow at Pansy.  Just take their own seats and hot chocolates and try to feel a little more okay.


	6. Theodore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I mentioned in chapter 2 that it's super hard to find charaziation beyond 'bad person' for the Slytherins, but like I feel that was the worst for Theodore.
> 
> Like all I have is 'has seen death', 'dads a deatheater', 'hangs out with Draco in the later books and is Bad(tm)', and 'made the timeturner in that trainwreck of a play'.
> 
> So I probably abused some extreme creative licence with his character, but can you blame me?

Life at Hogwarts is a balancing act, that's what Theodore thinks.  A careful act of not getting too involved with anyone, least he be labelled a deatheater or a traitor.  Blaise can do it, while being friends with Draco and Pansy no less, but Theodore isn't nearly so capable.  He can barely keep his neutral position by remaining invisible, being no one's friend and no one's enemy. 

It's a lonely sort of act.  But better that then join the deatheaters, or worse yet get labelled for death.  Better just to be alone.

The Triwizard Tournament just proves that.  The official story is Diggory was killed by something in the maze, the same way Krum was cursed, but no Slytherin believes that.  Even before the letters from home arrive they all know it, Cedric Diggory was killed by the Dark Lord.

It's a terrifying fact, one that has Theodore thinking of his mother.  Of his father's letters, proclaiming he hadn't done enough to prove loyal, even if he hadn't done enough to prove disloyal either.

Life at Hogwarts is a balancing act.  One Theodore finds anything but easy and one that's about to become a lot harder.  He already feels like he falling, and it's terrifying.

That's why he sneaks out to the fields near the Care of Magical Creatures classes. In the moonlight, the trees are almost as terrifying as the Forbidden Forest, and the creatures he's come to see seem ghostly.

Thestrals.

Theodore hates the creatures, on some level.  They're a constant reminder that his mother is dead, that he's the odd one out who can see the beasts.

But there's also a calmness as he greets them, hand out first to be sniffed than nuzzled.  Despite being so tied to death, the thestrals radiant a sense of contentment. An acceptance Theodore can't find in his balancing act. And in some ways they make him feel less alone.

“Nott?”  His calm is broken by a new voice.  Theodore tenses, turning to find Harry Potter behind him.  Oh no. “What are you doing here?” There's no smooth way to leave this conversation, not his he's been spotted.  Theodore clears his throat and accepts he'll have to speak to the boy he's advoided for four years.

“I could ask you the same thing.”  Theodore manages. 

“I just… I needed a walk.”  Potter sighs. “Couldn't sleep.”

“I'm surprised to see the great hero sneaking out just for some fresh air.”  Theodore says, he means it insulting but Potter seems to take it as teasing.

“Well I  _ am  _ still a Slytherin.”  He reminds, stepping up to the thestral.  Like Theodore, he holds out his hand and let's the creature sniff it before he starts to pet it.  “I didn't think anyone else could see these.” He says, distracting Theodore from his plans of a quick escape.

“Anyone who’s seen death can.”  Theodore shrugs. “I suppose you started seeing them after Diggory.”  He guesses, even though Diggory died just hours ago and Potter seems comfortable with the thestral.  

“Why does everyone think this is the first time I saw someone die?”  Potter sighs, mostly to himself. “Everyone forgets Quill died trying to get the stone, and I was there when it happened.”  He explains. 

“You've seen the thestrals since first year?”  Theodore frowns. “Does Luna know?”

“Luna?”  Potter repeats, sounding as confused as Theodore.

“Uh, Lovegood.  She's a Ravenclaw in our year.”  He mumbles, looking at the thestral instead of Potter.  “She can see them, and she likes to talk to anyone who can.”  

“Oh.  Maybe she hasn't noticed.”  Potter says. “Or maybe she doesn't want to talk to me.”  He adds with a sigh.

“I thought everyone who wasn't scrambling to kill you was scrambling to talk to you.”  Why is he still taking? This has gone beyond small talk, he should just say he's tired.  But, well, is not like anyone's around…

“Not really.”  Potter says. “Half the people that aren't trying to kill me think I'm the second coming of Voldemort.”  

“You shouldn't say his name.”  Theodore mumbles, hoping he hadn't flinched to obviously.

“I'm not going to be scared of a name.”  Potter rolls his eyes. “It just gives him more power.”

“Is the opposite, actually.”  Theodore argues. “Names have power, Potter, especially chosen names.  Strong wizards can learn to sense when someone says there name, even use that to find them.  I've seen it.” He mumbles the last line, running his hand down the thestrals side.

“I didn't know that.”  Potter says.

“Most people think it's a myth.”  Theodore admits. “But it isn't. Why do you think most of the older wizards never use first names?  It wasn't a habit built on nothing.”

“I figured it was just because you're all posh and at least a little stuck up.”  Potter shrugs, an amused for to his lips. Theodore doesn't mean to, but he lets out a little laugh.  

“Okay, well that's probably why they still do it.”  He relents. 

“You know, I don't think we've ever talked before.”  Potter hums. “Not even in a bad way.”

“We haven't.”  Theodore confirms, any misguided amusement gone from his voice.  

“How come?”  Potter prompts.

“Because half of Slytherin wants you dead.”  Theodore repeats. “I’d rather not be caught in the crossfire.  Goodnight Potter.” He finally takes his leave, going the long way back to the castle and hoping Potter doesn't follow.  He doesn't.

* * *

Two days later, Theodore wakes up covered in itching feathers.  

“I didn't even hear the Weasley's sneak in.”  Zabini comments inbetween laughter. 

“Odd they'd go after you Nott, I didn't think you could stand out.”  Goyle mocks. Theodore mentally curses, he should have waited until everyone had gone to breakfast before he started trying to get the feathers off.

“He certainly stands out now.”  Crabbe chuckles.

“You don't suppose the twins are doing another round of pranks on all of us, do you?”  Zabini sighs once he's recovered. “I'd rather not deal with that again.”

“I suppose they're pulling names out of a hat again.”  Malfoy suggests. 

“If they pull mine out I hope it's atleast after noon.”  Zabini yawns.

“There's a history of magic test coming up I'd rather avoid, maybe they'll get me out of it.”  Malfoy says.

“Maybe they'll finally humiliate Potter or Bulstrode.  They always let those two off easy.” Crabbe complains.

“The Weasley's are the ones that get off easy.”  Goyle claims. “Professor Snape never punishes them for it.”

“As daft as I ever, I see.”  Zabini claims. “Snape can't punish them if they're smart.  Or cunning. Sure we all  _ know _ they're the cause of that mess,” he gestures to Theodore, “but we can't prove it.”

“Honestly, as ridiculous as it is, they were put in Slytherin for a reason.”  Malfoy adds. “I'm sure Professor Snape is just waiting for the prank they mess up, then he can finally expel them.”

“I'm just waiting for the day the Dark Lord makes his move and burns this place to the ground.”  Crabbe grumbles.

“If it gets me out of history…”  Malfoy trails off. “Honestly Nott, don’t you know any good unsticking charms?”  He sighs at Theodore, who’s still trying to get the damn feathers off. Whatever charm or tool they used to stick them on, it wasn’t responding to the usual unsticking spells.

“The Weasley’s are nothing if not thorough.”  Theodore mumbles, managing to rip one of the stupid things off.  

“Laborem Administrari.”  Malfoy calls, waving his wand in Theodore’s direction.  The feathers immediately fall to the ground. “I’m am not putting up with that eyesore in my classes.”  He adds, in way of explanation.

“My eyes thank you.”  Zabini says. The two turn from the mirror, leaving without a farewell.

“What kind of spell was that?”  Goyle asks, frowning at Malfoy’s back.

“I’ve never heard it.”  Crabbe shrugs, but doesn’t think much off it.  They leave as Theodore finally starts his morning routine. 

Until most, Theodore actually studies Latin along side learning the latin spells.  It’s why Draco’s spell confuses him so much. What do the words ‘mischief managed’ have to do with unsticking feathers?

* * *

The feathers aren’t the last Theodore sees of the Weasley’s that day.  He’s reading in the back of the library, where he usually spends weekends, when they corner him.

“Oi, who do you think you are?”  The left one demands.

“Excuse me?”  Theodore frowns, shifting into a proper sitting position.

“You’d better have a good apology, or this morning will be the least of your problems.”  The right twin warns.

“What exactly did I do?”  Theodore asks. He doesn’t think he’s even talked to the Weasley’s before, let alone done something to piss them off.

“You made Harry cry, is what you did.”  The right twin says.

“What right do you have, huh?  Telling him people will die around him?  Do you even think before you speak?” The left twin snaps.

“What?”  Theodore frowns deeper, thinking back to that only conversation.  “I just answered his question, he’s the one that asked. If he didn’t like the answer that’s not my fault.”

“We didn’t like the answer.”  The twins say together. 

“Shush!”  The librarian calls, before she actually sees who she’s shushing.  “You two! Out, immediately.” She orders. “You’re banned from my library.”

“You’d better hope we like your apology.”  The left twin warns as the two shuffle from the room.

Theodore sighs.  The train back to London leaves tomorrow, hopefully all this will blow over by next year.

* * *

The second Theodore steps back into his dorm he realizes no, things haven’t blown over.  His entire bed is covered in slime.

“I don’t have the energy for this.”  Theodore mutters to himself. He has enough to worry about this year.  The Dark Lord is back, and his father is putting the pressure on. 

‘ _ Why can’t you be like the Malfoy boy? _ ’, his father words echo in his head, ‘ _ the Dark Lord thinks him worthy.  Or the Parkinson girl, she already has countless connections _ .’ __

“Laborem Administrari.”  Theodore mutters Malfoy’s spell, relieved when the slime evaporates.  He sits, drawing the curtains so his roommates won’t see him. What is he meant to do?  He certainly can’t apologize to Potter, he’s not even sure why he has to. So what, he just has to deal with the pranks?  Hope the Weasley’s get bored?

“This is going to be a long year.”  Theodore mumbles. He doesn’t want to be here.  The opening feast is soon, but Theodore doesn’t have the energy to care.  He curls up and falls asleep.

* * *

“You read today’s paper yet?”  Zabini asks Malfoy the next morning in the bathroom.  The bathroom is mostly empty. Potter is in the shower, and Theodore just stepped out of his.

“How can I when you hog the bloody thing?”  Malfoy rolls his eyes, frowning at his reflection and restyling his hair.

“‘parently Dumbledore didn’t trust Potter’s statement on Diggory’s death.”  Zabini hums. 

“What, they’re trying to claim Potter killed the guy?”  Malfoy frowns, sounding angrier than Theodore would have expected.

“No.  Dumbledore thinks it was the Dark Lord.”  Zabini says. “Paper’s saying he’s a paranoid old man, and the council sent pretty in pink to check if he’s going senile.”  Theodore raises his tooth brush to his mouth and immediately recalls, spitting the toothpaste out.

“Nott.”  Malfoy and Zabini both startle.

“We didn’t see you there.”  Zabini says. “What’s wrong with your toothpaste?”

“The Weasleys.”  Theodore guesses, trying to wash the horrible taste out of his mouth.  It tastes like every horrible flavour of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.  Knowing the Weasleys, it might just be.

“You must have really pissed them off.”  Malfoy says. 

“If I were you I’d swallow my pride and just apologize.”  Zabini hums.

“Like you know anything about swallowing pride.”  Theodore snaps, storming his way out of the bathroom.  He’s just out the door when he hears Zabini whistle.

“Who knew the invisible boy had claws.”

* * *

A month into the year, Theodore starts seriously considering running away.  The pranks don’t stop. Every other day there’s some inconvenience caused by the twins, never as bad as the first two days, but it’s just..

It’s just all too much.

Umbridge’s useless classes and her stupid whining is too much.

His father’s letters, demanding he do something with himself in the deatheaters is too much.

Feeling so damn alone is too much.

Running away wouldn’t be so hard, Theodore thinks.  He could ride off on a thestral, and he’d just have to not use magic for a few more months.  Muggle life can’t be  _ that _ hard to figure out.  Surely it’ll be better than this.

“You look like your thinking.”  Luna only announces her presence as she sits beside Theodore, but he doesn’t jump.  He doesn’t have the energy.

“I am thinking.”  Theodore sighs. He and Luna aren’t friends, but there’s a familiarity that comes with regularly visiting the same thestral-filled clearing.  She’s probably the closest thing he has to a friend. And he won’t even look at her in Hogwarts.

Maybe he’s the problem.

“What about?”  Luna asks.

“Running away.”  Theodore admits.

“I think about that sometimes.”  Luna hums. “It’d be nice to be somewhere I’m not odd.”

“I don’t think such a place exists.”  Theodore points out. “But that’s not a bad thing.”  He quickly adds. 

“Maybe.”  Luna says.  “What about you, why do you want to run away?”  Theodore sighs.

“Lots of reasons.”  He admits. “Umbridge is a bitch, my father is stressing me out, and the Weasleys won’t leave me alone for two seconds.”  

“The Weasleys?”  Luna prompts.

“They’ve been pranking me all year.”  Theodore sighs. “It’s nothing bad, I guess, just the pot finally boiling over.”

“Why are they doing that?”  Luna frowns. “I never thought they were mean.”

“They said I made Potter cry.”  Theodore says. “But all I did was answer his question!”

“What question?”  Luna asks.

“He asked why we hadn’t talked before, and I said it was because half of Slytherin was out to get him and I didn’t want to get killed in the crossfire.”  Theodore explains. “Which is true! The deatheaters would kill anyone just for being friends with Potter.” He defends. He can’t risk that sort of thing, not after his mother.

“When did you tell him that?”  Luna tilts her head, no judgement in her face.

“Last year.  Right after the Triwizard Tournm- oh.”  Theodore groans as realization finally hits.  He told Potter being around him was a risk, right after Diggory had been killed by deatheaters right in front of Potter.  God, no wonder the Weasley’s are making his life a living hell. He might as well have said it was Potter’s fault Diggory was dead.

“You didn’t think before you spoke.”  Luna paraphrases. 

“I didn’t think before I spoke.”  Theodore confirms.

“I like Harry.”  Luna hums. “He’s nice.  We should let him join our club, especially if he can see the thestrals.” 

“We have a club?”  Theodore frowns. 

“The ‘I saw my mum die club’.”  Luna announces. “I suppose it’s a bit of a depressing club.”

“Yeah, it is.”  Theodore says, managing a light laugh.  “I’m going to apologize to Potter.” He says.  He’ll just have to figure out how to do it privately.

“I think that’s a good idea.”  Luna says. 

“I’m still thinking of running away though.”  Theodore admits.

* * *

The best time to get Potter alone is the morning, Theodore decides.  He gets ready for the day long before the rest of them on weekends, which means everyone will be asleep.  Or at least they’ll still be in bed. There’s no risk of anyone overhearing them.

Hopefully.

Theodore doesn’t sleep that night, just to make sure he doesn’t oversleep.  When sunlight starts peeking through the lake water, he drags himself out of bed and to the bathroom.

Potter is just about to get in the shower when Theodore arrives.  He turns, frowning slightly.

“Theodore?”  He prompts. “You’re up early.” 

“I’m sorry.”  Theodore says, getting it out as quick as possible.  

“Huh?”  Potter frowns deeper.  He’s going to drag this out.  Damnit. Theodore hopes no one else decides today’s the day to start being an early riser.

“I’m sorry.”  He repeats. “About what I said last year.  It’s not your fault that Diggory died, and I didn’t mean it like that.  I didn’t even realize that’s how you thought I meant it until yesterday.”  He explains.

“Oh.”  Potter sighs.  “It’s fine, you don’t have to be sorry.  I know I’m a risk to be around.” He assures, with a smile even sadder than if he hadn’t tried.

“You aren’t the risk.”  Theodore says firmly. 

“You wouldn’t even talk to me because I’m a risk.”  Potter points out.

“That’s not because of you.  It’s the deatheaters that are dangerous.”  Theodore tries to explain. “And I don’t talk to you because I’m a coward.”  He mumbles.

“What?”  Potter prompts.  

“I don’t want to side with the deatheaters, but I know what’ll happen if I side against them.”  Theodore admits. “So I’m trying to stay neutral, like Zabini.”

“Zabini isn’t neutral.”  Potter claims.

“Well he’ll never take the mark, that’s pretty neutral.”  Theodore sighs.

“And you would?  Take the mark?” Potter asks.  

“I don’t have much of a choice.”  Theodore shrugs. “My dad’s a deatheater.  He wants me to follow in his footsteps.”

“You could fight it.”  Potter argues.

“You don’t understand.”  Theodore shakes his head.  “I saw my mum die because she stood up to them.  And that was  _ before _ the Dark Lord was back.  No one fights the deatheaters and survives.”  Potter’s hesitates a moment before nodding to himself. 

“I can prove people do.”  He says.

“What?”  Theodore frowns.  

“Meet me here tonight.”  Potter instructs. “I’ll show you.”  It could be a trap. Then again, what’s the worst that can happen?  Potter isn’t exactly going to led him into a room full of deatheaters and call him a traitor.  

“Okay.”  He agrees.

“Great!”  Potter grins.  “I’ll see you tonight.”  With that he heads into one of the stalls.  Theodore ducks down to the kitchens to get some coffee.  If he falls asleep in potions he’s not going to make it to tonight.

* * *

After curfew, when Theodore would usually sneak off to the thestrals, he insteads sneaks to the bathroom.  Potter and Bulstrode are waiting for him out the front. This is it, he thinks, his last chance to back out.

Theodore takes a step closer to the two.  

“There you are.”  Potter greets, tone hushed.  

“You didn’t give me a time.”  Theodore mumbles.

“It’s alright, we’re not late.”  Potter assures, he lifts a piece of fabric from the ground and spreads it out.  An invisibility cloak. “Come on.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”  Bulstrode mumbles, getting under the cloak.  “He made you cry.”

“You remember you hated me when we first meet right?  You were meaner than Theo could hope to be.” Potter rolls his eyes.

“It’s Theodore, not Theo.”  Theodore mumbles, ducking under the cloak.  “I don’t like Theo.” His mother called him Theo.  “I didn’t know you had the invisibility cloak.” 

“It’s invisible not soundproof.”  Bulstrode warns as they start shuffling from the dorm.  Theodore’s already regretting this.

“I got it as a christmas present.”  Potter explains once they’re wondering the quiet halls.  “Apparently they’re pretty rare.”

“There’s only one in existence.”  Theodore says. “Like the philosopher's stone.”

“Only one?”  Potter frowns.  “Why wouldn’t they make more?”

“No one can.”  Theodore shrugs.  

“That’s a myth.”  Bulstrode huffs once she realizes what Theodore means.  “It’s a kids story.”

“Kids stories are usually lessons.”  Theodore argues. “Besides, I researched it.  There’s only ever been the one known cloak.”

“What kids story?”  Potter frowns.

“I’ll explain later.”  Bulstrode says. “Come on, we don’t want to be the last there.”  She starts snuffling faster and it takes all of Theodore’s focus not to fall behind and out of the invisible fabric.

 

They finally come to a stop at the Potions classroom.  Theodore frowns as Potter opens the door. Why would they meet anyone in the Potions classroom?  The last person they want to be caught by is Professor Snape.

That becomes the last of his concerns when he sees who’s already waiting for them.  Malfoy, Zabini, and Parkinson are lounged on the tables chatting. Surely this is a mistake.  Their meeting place has been compromised, in a moment Potter will start backing up.

He doesn’t.  Instead, Potter pulls off the fabric.  

“There you are.”  Zabini greets, grinning.  Standing behind Potter and Bulstrode, Theodore must look like a deer in highlights.

It has to be a trap.  There is no way Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, of all people, are against the deatheaters.  The deatheaters are their whole world. They’re the golden children.

“Calm down, we’re not going to pull a killing curse on you.”  Parkinson rolls her eyes at Theodore's expression. 

“Pansy.”  Malfoy hisses.  “Ignore her, she’s still working on this whole being nice thing.”

“Some of us haven’t had years of practice playing both sides.”  Parkinson claims. 

“This isn’t possible.”  Theodore shakes his head.  It must be some sort of hallication, probably brought on by a lack of sleep.  Or too many pranks.

“It’s hard to believe, but we have intend seen the light.”  Zabini claims. “We’ve left out deatheating lives behind us, corpses never tastes all that good anyway.”

“Why am I friends with either of you.”  Malfoy groans. 

“They are telling the truth.”  Potter says. “We even brewed Veritaserum, if you wanted to be sure.”  He offers, gesturing to a cauldron Theodore had been too distracted to notice before.

“‘We’ he says, like I’d let you near a potion.”  Malfoy mutters. He takes a sip of the potion then offers it too Theodore.  “You can try it, if you want proof it’s Veritaserum.” He offers. Well, Malfoy tried it…

“Okay.”  Theodore steps forward, taking a sip of the potion.  “Ask me something.”

“Do you think it’s Harry’s fault Diggory died?”  Malfoy’s quick to ask, clearly he planned this.

“No.”  Theodore answers before he can even think of the answer.  Not that he’d have lied.

“Told you.”  Malfoy turned to Potter.  “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I thought we were here to assure Theodore, not me.”  Potter mumbles. “Blaise and Pansy, you’re turn.” The other two of the golden trio take a sip of Veritaserum, then tell Theodore that they’re against the deatheaters.

“I still think it’s impossible to believe.”  Theodore says. “But I believe it.” He jumps as a section of the wall moves, and the Weasley twins slip inside.

“Did we miss it?”  The one of the left asks.  

“We came as fast as we could!  Right George?” The one of the right says.

“Right Fred.”  George agrees.

“Okay, you’re not even trying.”  Potter rolls his eyes. “That’s George and that’s Fred.”  He tells Theodore, pointing at the opposite twin.

“No, you didn’t miss it.”  Bulstrode answers. 

“Great!”  The twins in unison say.  

“So Theodore, what do you say?”  Fred, Theodore thinks, starts.

“What to join our little merry band?”  George finishes.

“Uh,” Theodore mumbles.  Does this really change anything?  Okay, there are still people that will fight the deatheaters.  But that doesn’t change what the deatheaters will do to them if they find out.  That doesn’t change that Theodore is terrified of seeing himself lying on the carpet like his mother, blood trickling from his lips after too much use of the torturing curse.

“We aren’t asking you to fight.”  George says. “Not physically anyway.  We’re just saying, if you want an out, this is it.”

“And we’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”  Fred adds.

A way out.  No siding with the deatheaters, no ending up like his mother.  It's Theodore's dream. But how sure can he be they're telling the truth?  

Theodore decides he doesn't care.  He's done trying to balance, he's done worrying, he's done being so tired and lonely all the time. 

“Where do I sign?”  Theodore says.

“Well first we’ll need a blood sacrifice, and promises of your first born.”  Zabini says, counting it on his fingers.

“Blaise.”  Malfoy hisses.

“I’m kidding!”  Zabini assures. “We’ll only need your second born.”

“So it’s settled!”  George grins. “We’re one big happy family.”

“And you know what families do?”  Fred asks.

“Oh no.”  Bulstrode groans.

“Veritaserum truth or dare!”  The twins announce. 

“Oh this’ll be fun.”  Zabini grins. 

“The rules are simple, we’re all taking a full shot of Veritaserum and then going around and playing truth or dare.”  Fred explains, starting to fill up potion vials.

“You can pass, but only three times.”  George adds, handing out the vials as Fred fills them.

“That’s why you wanted such a big batch.”  Malfoy mumbles, even as he takes the vial.

“This is ridiculous.”  Bulstrode sighs. She also still takes the vial though.

“More like the perfect opportunity for some good gossip.”  Parkinson grins.

“Exactly.”  The twins grin.

“Here you go newbie.”  George says, holding out the vial for Theodore.  He hesitates a moment, not sure he wants to be so open with complete strangers.  But then, he did just agree to join their old little friendship group. “We promise it’s not a prank.”  George adds with Theodore hesitates.

“We’re sorry about all that by the way.”  Fred hums. “At first it really was because you made Harry sad, but then it was more about getting you to talk to him.”

“We weren’t sure you’d come here if we just asked.”  George adds. “What’s that face for?” He questions at Theodore’s confusion.

“I’m just… surprised you guys wanted me to join.”  He admits. “I’m half convinced I’m going to wake up and realize this was all a dream.”

“Of course we wanted you to join, we need our own little Slytherin Army.  Everyone else has Dumbledore’s Army.” Zabini claims.

“The name was my idea.”  Malfoy chuckles. “That way if we get caught the old coot gets the blame.”

“More importantly.”  George says, pointedly.  “We wanted you to join because we wanted you to join.  No ulterior motives.” 

“And you can trust him, he’s already taken his serum.”  Fred perks up. 

“So, you wanna play?”  George offers the vial again and this time Theodore doesn’t hesitate.

“It sounds fun.”  He grins. 

It is fun, and hilarious, and embarrassing.  He sits between George and Potter, all of them sitting on the floor because ‘it’s the rules’ as Fred had put it.  As they go around the circle again and again, sharing embarrassing secrets or slightly morbid childhood stories, Theodore finds he doesn’t feel alone.

The lack of sleep catches up to him a few rounds in and he slips to sleep, resting on George’s shoulder, but no one seems to mind.  Theodore wakes up in his bed and, for a moment, he’s worried it really was a dream. Then he notices the vial by the pillow, attached to a note assuring him it wasn’t.  Theodore wakes up better rested than he has in months.


	7. Fred and George

They can’t stand Hogwarts anymore.  Not with Umbridge in charge, and not when they don’t need to be there.  But that doesn’t mean they leave nothing behind. The kids will be fine, they know that.  Still, they don’t like being away from them this long.

That’s why they invite them to see the new shop, during the holidays when Umbridge can’t watch them.  

Harry’s there first.  It’s much easier to get to places when in the care of your not-actually-a-murder godfather then it is in the care of your horrible aunt and uncle.  Fred hopes the Dursley’s like junk mail, they’re sure to be getting quite the magical amount lately. Even if they move.

Milicent is next, tagging along with her uncle’s trip in town. 

“Why are you wanting out here?”  She asks, frowning at the three of them, still standing at the buildings side entrance.

“Waiting for everyone.”  George grins. “No one’s allowed to see the store until you’re all here.”

“They’re not budging on it either.”  Harry sighs.

“Of course they’re not.”  Millicent mutters. 

Draco and Theodore arrive together, not too long after.  Theodore’s settled well into pretending he and Draco are totally friends because they’re both super into deatheaters, totally.  It probably wasn’t hard to convince their parents to let them spend the day in Diagon Alley. 

“Honestly, you tell your mum you’re going out and suddenly it’s lectures on dating.”  Pansy complains as she arrives. 

“You’d better not be going on dates.”  Fred says. “You’re like, twelve.”

“I’m almost seventeen!”  Pansy huffs.

“Nope, you’re all twelve and you’re never allowed to date ever.”  George claims.

“Don’t tell Blaise, dating is his favourite pass time.”  Draco chuckles.

“I thought it was just the flirting he liked.  Dates are too much trouble.” Harry adds.

“No, no that’s enough out of all you.”  Fred protests. “No more talk about about any of this from any of you.” 

“Someone’s protective.”  Theodore comments, chuckling.

“Very.”  The twins say in unison.  They’re still amused when Blaise appears moments later.

“What’d I miss?”  He asks.

“Apparently we can never date.”  Draco explains.

“Draco, you’re like a brother to me.  I’d never date you.” Blaise says, in his best ‘letting them down gentle’ tone.

“That’s not what I meant!”  Draco protests as the others laugh.

“Come on you lot.”  George announces, opening the side door.

“We’ve got a lot to show you!”  Fred adds.

They start on the ground floor and work their way up, showing off new and old tricks.  George will admit they rush through the shop floors, it wasn’t really what they’d brought them out here to see.

“And here is a very cool picture.”  Fred announces, showing off the portrait in the middle of the top floor.

“It’s going to make a scary face.”  Harry guesses, eyeing it carefully.

“Good guess.”  George says. “But not quite.”

“It shoots water at whoever’s looking at it?”  Millicent tries.

“That’s definitely something we have to make, but no.”  Fred says.

“What is it then?”  Pansy asks, impatient.  The twins grin and turn to the portrait.  

“Spying Slytherins.”  They say. Immediately the portrait swings open to reveal a set of stairs.

“Well?”  The prompt after a moment.  “Up you go!” The others take no more prompting, immediately starting up the stairs to the real top floor.  Fred and George share a grin then follow them up.

The stairs led to a lounge, as similar to the Room of Requirement’s lounge as they could manage.

“You remade our room?”  Draco asks.

“Since the Dumbledore’s Army is using the real one, we needed a second.”  George nods.

“This is what it looked like?”  Theodore asks. He’d never gotten to see the Room of Requirement after all.  “It’s cool.” 

“Alas, ours has less magically appearing objects, but otherwise it’s perfect.”  Fred says.

“What’s down this hall?”  Millicent asks.

“Well, down the other hall is the kitchen and the bathrooms.  We have two.” George says.

“For that one we’re not sure.”  Fred grins. “You’ll have to check.”  Shooting them a suspicious glance, the kids start towards the hall.  And immediately find the big surprise. Labeled doors line the hall, one for each of them.

“You got us rooms?”  Blaise asks, his own room near the front.  They’d gone in alphabetical order. 

“They’re a little plain at the moment, but you’re free to decorate them however you’d like.”  George grins.

“They aren’t sound proof.”  Fred warns.

“How did you even fit these all in here?”  Harry asks, awed. 

“Expanding charms.”  George brushes off the question.  “Well? Are you going to look inside?”  

Sitting on each of the beds is the second big surprise, small golden lockets.  Most of the kids look at them in confusion, but Theodore rushes back out of the room.  He’s quick to wrap his arms around both the twins.

“I can’t believe you made it!”  He grins. “Thank you!”

“You did most of the hard work, Theodore.”  Fred assures.

“You two can definitely call me Theo.”  Theodore tells them, so quickly it takes them a minute to register what he said.

“What are they?”  Millicent asks, stepping out of her room and eyeing the locket.

“Portable port keys!”  Theo answers for them, grinning.  “Whenever you open it, it goes to the place stored in the locket.  And it stores the place you left.”

“It’s a genius invention.”  Fred grins.

“But it’s not one we’re going to sell.”  George says. “This is just for us. A port key so you can come and go whenever you want.”

“This is amazing.”  Draco breaths, staring at the little necklace like it’s the key to the world.  All of them have a similar expression, like Fred and George gave them the world just for caring a little.  For giving them a home where they’re loved. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”  George and Fred grin.  “You’re family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was super fun to write, and I have more for the au (about Snape, and more details of the events of the books from more perspectives) so if you want to read that let me know!
> 
> [And don't forget to check out my blog](https://kailsmusings.wordpress.com/), and of course[ ShanaStorytellers blog because I love everything she writes shes awesome.](http://shanastoryteller.tumblr.com)


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